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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633554">Here's to Us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY/pseuds/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY'>SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>HOLY Series [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, An angel with a SIG Saur P320 9mm, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale finally snaps, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Corrupt Cops, Deceit, Divorce (again not A/C, Drugging, Eating Disorders, F/M, Fat Shaming, Flashbacks, Gun Violence, Homophobic Language, Hurt, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Infidelity (But not between A/C), Kidnapping, M/M, Major character death isn't quite what you think, Murder, Other, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sad Crowley (Good Omens), The really do get a happily ever after, Threats of Violence, Violence, non con touching</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:42:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>44,603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY/pseuds/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot of changes are coming. Some good and some bad.<br/>And sometimes the worst things never change.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adam/Pepper (Good Omens), Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Dagon (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens), Warlock/Brian (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>HOLY Series [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Somethin' Bad About to Happen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title of fic is a Halestorm song. Title of chapter is a song performed by Carrie Underwood and Miranda Lambert. This one has angst, and a big baddie returns.</p><p>So the Major Character Deaths are not in the action part of this. They are in the epilogue from God at the end. And even then Aziraphale and Crowley get to be happy for eternity. No sad endings here.</p><p>Made up a last name for Brian, so there’s that too.</p><p>As always, mind the tags, they are subject to change as my mind develops the story. ❤️</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Wednesday, May 19, 12:10PM, 3 Years Later</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think we should move this inside? The heat is nearly unbearable.” Aziraphale wipes his brow with his left hand, steadying a ladder with his right. Neither he nor Crowley expected late May to be so blisteringly hot.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale is dressed accordingly, in beige cargo shorts, a thin powder blue cotton T-shirt and open toe sandals. Crowley only slightly less so, in a black A-shirt, skin-tight blue jeans and boots. The blond catches himself staring up at his husband’s tight ass as he stands atop the ladder. At 50 years old, Crowley is sexier than any man half his age.</p><p> </p><p><em>Any man at all, really</em>. Aziraphale thinks to himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Won’t be nearly as warm this evening.” Crowley secures the last of the string lights, moving carefully down the ladder. “So, boss man, do you approve?”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale wraps both hands around Crowley’s bicep and takes in the scene. Twelve, ten feet tall wooden poles have been secured in the ground, creating a large hexagon consuming most of the backyard. Colorful string lights wrap around and hang between each of the poles.</p><p> </p><p>Plywood lays across the lawn, working as a make-shift dance floor and an old boat trailer has been transformed into a stage. On the opposite side of the plywood from the stage, Crowley and Aziraphale have set up the long tables normally kept in the garage, each draped in tablecloths of black, white or red, Oak Hill High School’s team colors. Hanging across the pines, an enormous sixty feet long, twenty feet high banner reading <strong>CONGRATULATIONS GRADUATES.</strong></p><p> </p><p>“It’s beautiful Anthony.” Aziraphale leans his head against Crowley’s shoulder. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve done, Angel.” Crowley kisses the top of Aziraphale’s head, tasting the salty ting of sweat damp curls. “Hard to believe they’re adults already.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is.” Aziraphale’s words come out a sob as he turns to look into his husband’s shaded eyes. “It all went much too fast. I can’t believe it’s over.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Dove.” Crowley moves to stand directly in front of Aziraphale, slender arms encircling a strong waist. “Don’t cry.”</p><p> </p><p>“How are you not?” Aziraphale lays his forehead against Crowley’s chin. “Everything is ending.” He mumbles miserably.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing is ending, Angel.” Crowley pushes his fingers through silver specked curls. They’ve both began to gray, but it’s much less noticeable on Aziraphale’s head. “Life is about changing, evolving. This is the first of new beginnings.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s all going to be so horribly different.” Aziraphale wishes he could be as calm and collected as Crowley. “I worry we won’t be there to protect them if things go wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Crowley continues his caresses and the blond melts against him. “I worry too, but the day will eventually come that we won’t be here any longer. They need to learn to live without us.”</p><p> </p><p>“At least I’ll always have you.” Aziraphale lifts his face. Even through the dark glasses, Crowley’s gaze is undeniably tender.</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely.” Crowley’s places his lips feather light against Aziraphale’s brow. “No matter where anyone else goes, or who comes in and out of our lives, I will always be your constant.” He tilts his face, this time kissing Aziraphale’s lips. “Now, you best get showered, I gotta run to Jackson for the cake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do be careful, darling. I’ll be ready and out of your way when you return.” Aziraphale repays his husband’s kisses with another.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re never in my way, Dove.” Crowley hums against his lips before stepping back and walking across the lawn to the Bentley.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>1:00PM, Oak Hill High School</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Brian stands beside Amanda Peterson, in a long line of seniors marching two by two. To say he’s nervous is an understatement and wouldn’t come close to describing the jumble of emotions encapsulated in the body normally known as Brian Gearing.</p><p> </p><p>He has the entire day planned in his head and he prays none of it goes wrong. The next few hours will be exciting, practicing graduation, the graduation itself, and a party at his boyfriend’s parent’s house. He and Warlock parting ways at bedtime tonight, for one of their last nights spent without the other.</p><p> </p><p>Both young men have been accepted into OSU, Brian majoring in art and design and Warlock in creative writing. An apartment awaits their move in this weekend, only a block away from campus. Their goal is to one day write and create comics and graphic novels together.</p><p> </p><p>His only fear is from what he’s planning to do at tonight’s party. Brian rests his hand against the box in his right trouser pocket. His parents have already given their approval, so now he needs to find a way to speak with Crowley and Aziraphale alone. His plan is to ask their blessing for Warlock’s hand, and if approval is given, to ask Warlock to be his husband.</p><p> </p><p>Brian is fairly certain Aziraphale’s response will be positive. Warlock’s Pops is such a kind, gentle soul. Not that Crowley isn’t, but he’s so tough and tattooed. Brian has in equal measure idolized and respected him, but also feared making him angry ever since he was a young child. His sweetheart’s Dad has never been mean but to a boy in love with his son, his image is terrifying.</p><p> </p><p>“Ya alright?” Amanda’s high-pitched voice breaks through his thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, yeah.” Brian realizes the line has started moving and he’s been staring into space like an idiot. “Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>1:30PM, Dairy Queen, Jackson, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley paces in front of the counter. The ice cream cake was scheduled for pick up a half an hour ago but through miscommunication on the part of the employees, it still isn’t ready.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir, I’m truly sorry.” Says a pretty young woman, stepping from the back. She has stunning green eyes, olive skin and long, naturally curly dark hair. “If you’ll take a seat at one of the booths, your cake should be ready in ten minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley runs his hands anxiously through his hair. Ten minutes means he’ll get home around 2:10 PM. The graduation ceremony starts at 3:00 PM and he still needs to shower and get dressed.</p><p> </p><p>He takes a deep breath to calm himself, losing his cool now won’t make anything better. In fact, if he snaps at the woman and Aziraphale finds out, he’d give Crowley a lecture about how her job is difficult and humans make mistakes.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” He says through gritted teeth, before taking a seat in the booth nearest the door.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley pulls his phone from his pocket, tapping Aziraphale’s contact.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello dearest. Is everything okay?” His Angel coos sweetly through the speaker.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Crowley sighs, fully annoyed. “They forgot our order. The cake isn’t ready.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh dear.” Crowley can almost hear the nervous flutter of hands on the other end of the line. “What do we do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t stress too much Dove.” Crowley reassures him, turning his head to glance out the window into the parking lot to his right. Beyond the Dairy Queen lot is a larger parking area shared by a Little Caesar’s, the nail salon where Aziraphale gets his mani/pedis, a family-owned boutique, fitness center, and a Japanese steakhouse. Crowley spots a familiar head of long blonde hair, causing his next sentence to come out more than a bit distracted. “They said it’ll be ready in ten minutes, just lay out my clothes for me and I’ll shower super quick.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is something else wrong?” After two decades together Aziraphale has become quite astute at noticing inflections in Crowley’s voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Not sure.” Crowley mumbles. He removes his sunglasses and watches Sal’s daughter-in-law, Amy, exit the Japanese steakhouse with a man who is most definitely <em>not </em>Sal’s son Harry.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you mind to fill me in Anthony?” Aziraphale’s voice is strained. Crowley recognizes the tone. When his Angel’s anxiety spikes it manifests as bitchy irritation.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m watching Amy leave the Japanese steakhouse with a man I don’t know.” He trails the couple’s movement.</p><p> </p><p>“Amy Weston? Harry’s Amy?”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley nods, not that Aziraphale can see him. “Our Mabel’s mother, yes, Angel, one and the same.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shouldn’t she be at work?” Crowley smiles at the protective indignation in his husband’s voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe she’s just having lunch with a co-worker.....Oh shit!” Crowley’s free hand slaps over his mouth in shock.</p><p> </p><p>“What?!” Aziraphale demands.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s kissing him!” Crowley’s blood boils at the sight of his younger cousin’s wife, sweet Mabel’s mother, with her tongue down a strange man’s throat. “What do I do, Angel? I mean I know what I want to do, but not sure you’d be happy, me missing our boys’ graduation cause I kicked a stranger’s ass.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hang up, snap a photo on your phone.” Aziraphale instructs quickly. “Get the cake, come home and we will try to find a proper time and place to broach this subject with Harry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony Crowley.” The pretty young woman calls from behind the counter. Crowley snaps the photo with Aziraphale still on the phone, then looks in her direction. She smiles, gesturing to the glossy cardboard container before her.</p><p> </p><p>“Got it Angel.” Crowley hurries to the counter, pulling out his wallet. “Cakes done, be home in twenty-five.”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you.” There’s an earnestness in Aziraphale’s words that makes Crowley’s heart ache.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you too, Angel.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>2:30PM, Oak Hill Elementary</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Sal pushes the blue button between the glass doors, resulting in what sounds like a doorbell chime. A speaker above the button crackles, followed by a nasally voice. “Can we help you?“</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.“ Sal smiles for the camera they can’t see, but knows is inside the contraption somewhere. “I’m here to check my granddaughter out of class.“</p><p> </p><p>Another buzz indicates the doors are now unlocked, and Sal quickly grabs for the handle before it can latch again.</p><p> </p><p>Stepping inside, they loses their breath for a moment. The air-conditioning is jarringly cold compared to the scorching heat outside. They turns right towards the office and their phone begins to ring, Bri’s photo on the screen.</p><p> </p><p>“Sup, sisser?” Yes, Bri’s her cousin, but she’s also the closest thing to a sister Sal has ever had.</p><p> </p><p>“What time you heading to the high school?” Bri sounds excited. “Shane can’t get off work and I wanted to know if I can ride along with you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure thing.” Sal walks into the office, cupping their hand over the mouth-piece of the phone and addressing the man behind the desk. “Mabel Weston, grade 4.” Removing their hand and again addressing Bri. “I’m getting Mabel now, I’ll pick you up on my way back through to get Jake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Awesome.” Sal can hear Bri shuffling about. “See you soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Sal has just enough time to finish the call, when Mabel comes bouncing up behind them. “Hey gramma.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mabel, you’re a mess.” Sal laughs. It’s apparent she’d began her morning looking clean and put together, but now she’s a collage of dirty jeans, loose pigtails and hair bows all askew.</p><p> </p><p>“So?” Mabel stares up at her grandparent defiantly, a fire behind her bright blue eyes, flecked with a lovely green. “I had stuff to do today and Warlock and Adam love me no matter what I look like.”</p><p> </p><p>Sal nods in agreement, offering Mabel their hand. “You’re absolutely right. I love the way you are too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep.” She takes Sal’s offered hand as they walk through the lobby and out the glass doors. “My Daddy does too, he loves me the most.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll have to agree.” Sal smiles sadly, overcome with memories of their own father. “Your Daddy’s full of love just like mine was. You know I named your Daddy after mine?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yup.” Mabel nods in rapid succession. “Daddy told me all about him.” Sal unlocks the car and Mabel climbs into the passenger seat. “Just wish my mom still loved me.”</p><p> </p><p>Sal stands outside the driver door struck speechless. After taking a few moments to collect their thoughts, they open their door and settles behind the wheel. “Why would you think your mom doesn’t love you baby girl?”</p><p> </p><p>Mabel purses her lips together, staring ahead out the windscreen. “She told me, said me and Daddy are the biggest mistakes. We’re suffocating her.” The little girl’s eyes gloss with unshed tears. “She says that stuff to Daddy all the time, but only me once. She was mad cause I got food on her clean pants when we was leaving the house to bring me to school. She never said sorry.” Her little face contorts in pain and worry. “Daddy don’t know about her saying somethin’ to me, so please don’t say nothin’ gramma.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry baby, I won’t.” Sal hopes the child will forgive them for the lie.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>2:50PM, Oak Hill High School</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry hands the last of the summer band schedules to the four students who have just wandered into his classroom. Wishing them a great summer, he hurries them out to the hall and locks his door behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Walking quickly down the hallway to the school gymnasium, he passes the long line of students in black and white robes awaiting the initiation of today’s ceremonies. He spots Warlock and pauses to hug and congratulate him on getting into OSU, before going in search of this year’s valedictorian.</p><p> </p><p>He finally spots Adam at the front of the line and Harry’s surprised to see the young man looking lost and forlorn.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not that nervous about your speech are you.“ Harry lays a hand in sandy-blond curls. “I know speeches are scary, but you’ve worked so hard and earned this. I hope you enjoy it at least a little.“</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not upset about the speech.“ Adam shakes the hand away from his head with a sad smile. “Pepper said we need a break.“</p><p> </p><p>“Why?“ Harry asks with genuine empathy. He’s been with Amy since he was 16 and can’t imagine how heartbroken he would’ve been if she dumped him on graduation day. Harry has loved her for so long, and although things have been a bit rocky lately, he’d be lost without her.</p><p> </p><p>“Said since we’re going to different colleges in different states, she doesn’t want to be tied down.“ Adam squeezes his eyes closed tightly and sighs. “Especially not to someone hundreds of miles away.“</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, bud, I’m sorry.“ Harry open his arms offering a hug and Adam accepts.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay.” Adam sniffles, pulling away as Pomp and Circumstance drifts out of the huge gymnasium doors. “She’s strong and independent, it’s one of the things I love about her. I’d rather not be with her than have her be someone she’s not.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry claps him on the shoulder. “You’re more of an adult than most people twice your age Adam. I’m so proud of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” Adam’s mouth quirks into a half smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Welcome.” Harry gives the young man’s shoulder a squeeze before hurrying off to find a seat.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>3:00PM, Crowley Residence</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Char Baxter has been a loyal employee of <strong>Azicrow Catering</strong> for the last decade. They’ve always done their job to the best of their ability, but never in their wildest dreams did Char expect Aziraphale Crowley to personally call them and request their team cater his twin sons’ graduation party.</p><p> </p><p>Handing each member of their crew a list of instructions, Char sends the gaggle of people wearing black trousers and red polos into the backyard. Using the key Mr. Crowley had given them, Char enters the home.</p><p> </p><p>From the moment they drove onto the property, Char has been more than a bit confused. The home and yard definitely <em>do not</em> look like they belong to a multi-millionaire. In fact, the area looks more like the sort of place a middle-class family might own.</p><p> </p><p>The yard is big, sure, but the home, although clean and well-kept, is small. The sort of cozy place to raise a tightknit family. The Crowley’s are obviously not interested in impressing anyone.</p><p> </p><p>Easily finding the kitchen, Char opens the large box freezer and locates the interestingly decorated ice cream cake. Five feet long and three feet in width, the entire cake is outlined in red icing, one half decorated in Marvel and DC characters, the other half covered in sports balls and a stethoscope.</p><p> </p><p>Char smiles, remembering Mr. Crowley excitedly gushing about how one child plans on being a writer and releasing graphic novels and the other plans to go into sports medicine.</p><p> </p><p>They leave the cake where it is, the party won’t start for another hour and a half and they don’t want to risk it melting.</p><p> </p><p>Closing the freezer lid, they stand to look through the window at their crew scurrying about. Fifteen, there should be fifteen caterers on hand, but only fourteen are accounted for. After today, Char will make certain Daniel Keeler no longer has a job under their employ. The man has been late, or a no call, no show to more than eleven events in the past two months.</p><p> </p><p>Almost as if thinking of him caused the man to manifest into existence, Daniel comes charging around the house and into the back lawn, tucking in his polo as he goes.</p><p> </p><p>“Daniel!” Char calls out, exiting the back door. “We don’t need your help, you can leave now.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” He stops, hands hovering over a pan of fried chicken.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re fired Daniel.” Char shakes their head. “We obviously can’t rely on you, you need to go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! Oh please, please.” He begs. “I need this job, I’ve just been going through a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the same excuse you’ve used the last <em>eleven</em> times.“ Char presses the bridge of their nose, they feel a headache coming on. “I’ve given you more than enough chances, so you can either leave of your own accord, or I can call the law and have you escorted off the premises.”</p><p> </p><p>Daniel stops speaking, nostrils flaring as he turns on his heels and stomps like an angry child to the front of the house.</p><p> </p><p>Something in his glare makes Char nervous. They don’t fully relax for nearly an hour after Daniel’s green sedan peels out of the long drive, throwing rocks in it’s wake.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Broken Halos</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry finds out about Amy. Brian’s plans for the evening go out of whack.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoy ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>4:13PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Sal stands outside the high school with their family, Wensleydale and Brian's parents and Pepper's mom, waiting for the graduates to exit the building. "So, Amy won't be joining us at the party?"</p><p> </p><p>They’re hoping to catch Harry alone to discuss the emotional abuse that not only he has been suffering, but to inform him of that which his daughter has received as well. They don't notice the strained look exchanged between their cousin and his husband.</p><p> </p><p>"No." Harry starts a video on his smart phone which causes Mabel to giggle, before submitting the device to the child entirely. "She was going to be, but then I got a message saying something came up at work and if she does show it will be late."</p><p> </p><p>"Did she say how late?" Aziraphale's tone is sweet but Sal catches a hint of tension in his expression. He bites his lower lip, nostrils flaring, causing Sal to wonder if Mabel has mentioned the situation to him as well.</p><p> </p><p>"I asked. She said she has no clue." Harry shrugs. "Bad thing is, she's been killing herself with overtime, but the hospital's been messing her around on her pay."</p><p> </p><p>"How so?" Crowley takes Aziraphale's hand.</p><p> </p><p>"She's not seeing any of it on her paychecks." Harry takes a handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes away the sweat that has accumulated on his brow.</p><p> </p><p>"And you don't think that's strange?" Crowley's eyebrows raise above his glasses.</p><p> </p><p>Harry opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted when the exodus of graduates spill out from the red brick building. In the midst of the flood appear four handsome young men and a stunning young woman.</p><p> </p><p>They are greeted by a chorus of "I'm so proud of you's" and "Congratulations!" as each of the former children are swarmed by their own and one another’s parents. An onslaught of pictures are taken. In the excitement, no one seems to notice that Adam and Pepper have developed an aversion to posing together.</p><p> </p><p>After this, another thirty minutes is set aside for goodbyes to teachers and underclassmen in attendance. The remaining goodbyes will wait until this evening, seeing as the entire senior class is invited to the party at the Crowley's residence.</p><p> </p><p>It guaranteed the majority will show. Some because they love the twins, others to snoop into the lives of the richest family in the county.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, the crowds begin to disperse. Harry and Mabel walk off to the back lot and the teachers parking. Pepper, her mother, Wensleydale and his parents go to the lot at the north parking area. Sal, Jake and Bri are in the upper lot closest to the school's entry doors. The Crowley's, the Gearing's, Beez and Dagon have all parked in the lower lot near the highway.</p><p> </p><p>"Crowley." Sal calls to their cousin, stopping him before he can walk too far away. They indicate for Jake and Bri to go ahead and settle in the car. "I need to ask you about something."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley pauses a moment, just long enough to press a kiss to Aziraphale's cheek, who in turn squeezes Crowley's arm affectionately. They whisper something to one another, before Aziraphale and the rest of the group continue their voyage to the lower lot.</p><p> </p><p>"Guessing you know too, huh?" Crowley fishes in his front, black trouser pocket and pulls out his phone with a hilarious level of difficulty. He is the only person Sal knows to wear his dress clothes skin-tight.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. I found out today." The previous moment’s humor now clouded by the subject of their conversation. "Surprised you and Aziraphale know and didn't have the decency to tell me.</p><p> </p><p>"I just learned about it today too." Crowley blinks, Sal's words obviously sting. "This is the first opportunity I've had to talk to you in private. Figured you wouldn't want me broadcasting it to everyone until Harry knows." Crowley rubs the back of his neck. "Would've preferred to told Harry before I told you really. Seems to me, he should know first. How'd you find out anyway?"</p><p> </p><p>"Mabel told me." Sal watches as Crowley's expression goes from confusion to shock and then horror.</p><p> </p><p>"Mabel knows?" Even through the shades, Sal can see the cartoonish way Crowley's eyes widen.</p><p> </p><p>"Well it does directly involve her." They shake their head. <em>Why is he being so obtuse?</em></p><p> </p><p>“How, exactly does <em>this</em> involve her?” Crowley’s cell phone is suddenly in Sal’s face and they find themself looking at a photo of a couple making out. Amy leaning against the passenger door of a green sedan, a man pressing his body against her’s. In shock Sal snatches the device from his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“This.” They take a deep breath in an attempt to calm their rage. <em>When I get my hands on that trifling little bitch.</em> “This is not what I was talking about.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wot?” Crowley flushes. “Oh, fuck. Sorry.” He reaches for his phone, but Sal turns away from him, holding the small screen in a vice grip. “What were you talking about? What happened with Mabel?”</p><p> </p><p>It takes Sal several seconds to realize a question has been asked. What was supposed to be a great day, is turning into one of the worst they’ve had in decades.</p><p> </p><p>“About that.” Sal can feel the tears forming in the corners of their eyes. “Amy.” They sob. “That worthless, conniving, piece of shit, told my Harry and my Mabel, that they are the biggest mistakes of her life. That she feels suffocated being with them.” They look to Crowley and can see their pain reflected back in their cousin’s face.</p><p> </p><p>Jake and Bri exit the vehicle as Crowley rounds the car, pulling the closest thing he has to a big sibling in his arms. “I can’t believe Harry stood for her saying something like that to Mabel.”</p><p> </p><p>“He didn’t.” They huff onto his shoulder. “From what Mabel told me, Amy speaks that way to Harry openly, but only to Mabel when they’re alone.” They pull back, wiping their nose on their sleeve.</p><p> </p><p>“Always so classy.” Crowley teases, tilting his head toward the tainted shirt sleeve. Sal realizes it’s an attempt to make them laugh. They’re not in the mood.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley shifts to complete seriousness under their stare. “We’ll confront this tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“In private.” Sal says pointedly. “We’re not going to ruin this evening for Adam and Warlock with drama.”</p><p> </p><p>“Agreed.” Crowley gives their shoulders one final squeeze. “Ya’ll get changed. I’ll see ya at the house.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>5:47PM, Crowley Residence</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Emma Harris has never been to the Crowley home before. However, in the 10 years she has worked at the school as Harry Weston‘s assistant, she has grown rather attached to the twins and her coworker. She doesn’t normally make it a point to attend parties for students, but now that Adam and Warlock have graduated, they technically no longer count.</p><p> </p><p>The long driveway is filled with cars. Hopefully no one in attendance wants to leave early, it would take a miracle to get out of this mess.</p><p> </p><p>She eventually finds an open spot, and exits her car, doing so at the same time as an elderly couple. The duo look to be in their mid to late 70s, both dressed eccentrically. The woman’s style a bit gaudy and bright, the man’s dark and similar to an old military vet with shell shock. The bright and dark, a yin and yang of one another.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello dear.“ The woman smiles brightly, lips and eyes painted with the same blue and crimson brightness as her clothes. Her hair haloed, blonde on the top layer, red underneath. She reminds Emma of a psychedelic butterfly.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello.“ Emma returns the greeting with her sweetest smile and offers her hand. “Emma Harris.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tracy Shadwell.” The woman accepts the offered hand and shakes. She gestures with her free hand to the man behind her. “This is my husband Elias.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a pleasure to meet you Elias.” Emma releases Tracy’s hand and offers to shake the old man’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Sergeant.” He states gruffly, with no offer of accepting her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry?” Emma stammers.</p><p> </p><p>The man’s glare is jarring. “Ye shuld be. Ainlie mah wife kin ca’ me Elias. Mah official title is Sergeant Shadwell.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pish.” Tracy waves him away dismissively. She wraps an arm around Emma‘s and the two walk together toward the house. “I’ve never seen you before, how do you know the family?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m the assistant band director.” Emma can’t help but periodically glance at the sergeant behind them.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s harmless, dear.“ Tracy leans in close and whispers. “All bark, no bite.”</p><p> </p><p>Emma laughs nervously and smiles. Tracy leads her around the quaint home and into the back lawn, festivities in full swing. The property is scattered with groups of teens Emma has spent the last four years teaching, adults she’s never met before, others she knows vaguely well, and Harry. He’s sitting on the concrete edge of the home’s back porch and chattering away with a tall red-haired woman and a smaller person with dark hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Please excuse me.” She pats her new friend’s arm. “It was lovely meeting you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You too, dear.” Tracy relinquishes her grip on Emma’s arm and takes her husband’s. The two then wandering over to one of many long tables covered in food.</p><p> </p><p>“Is the entire school here?” Emma slips in beside Harry. He turns, smiling when it registers who is now next to him, and introduces her to the couple with which he been conversing.</p><p> </p><p>Adam and Warlock’s Auntie and Zizi are hilarious company, and similarly to the last couple she met, so vastly different. Beez is quit, a bit gruff but loads of fun to talk to. They have an intelligently, dry wit, the kind you could pass the evening with in a delightful banter. Emma also finds out quickly, they will say whatever thought pops into their head, with absolutely no filter.</p><p> </p><p>Dagon is more the people pleaser of the two. Extremely polite, she’s ever so careful with her words, and it’s obvious Beez sometimes embarrasses her, but the love between them is extraordinary.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are Mabel and Amy?” Emma scans the crowd.</p><p> </p><p>“Amy has to work late.” Harry points to the dance floor with his Solo cup. “Mabel’s cutting a rug. Or plywood I guess would be more accurate.”</p><p> </p><p>Emma smiles at the ridiculous joke. She spots the ten-year-old dancing with a very hairy, very burly man she recognizes as Harry’s step-father. “Your brother couldn’t make it?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, but he has a family and life overseas.” Harry’s mouth quirks up and a half smile. “He makes it a point to stay Thanksgiving through Christmas every year.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s better than most would do.” Dagon sets the plate of food down on the porch ledge. “How are Airi and Phillip?”</p><p> </p><p>“Great!” Harry’s chest puffs out at the mention of his nephew. “Philip is six now, and already in advanced classes, I’ve been told.”</p><p> </p><p>Over the course of the next hour, Emma only breaks away from the conversation long enough to eat and refill her beverages. She doesn’t know many of the other party goers. So, she spends the evening close to Harry, Beez and Dagon.</p><p> </p><p>She looks at her watch eventually, 7pm, and realizes she can’t hold off nature’s call any longer.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you tell me where the restroom is?” Emma asks when Harry offers to carry inside her second plate of the evening.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, follow me.”</p><p> </p><p>His and her plates in hand, he escorts her up the steps, onto the concrete porch, and through the back door of the home. She finds herself in the kitchen, bedroom to the left and doorway to a living room ahead. He turns right in the direction of the sink.</p><p> </p><p>After placing the dishes in the metal drain, he walks her through the home and to the bathroom door. Passing through the foyer, the two of them hear voices outside. Harry tilts his head, suddenly interested in something he’s overhearing.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay?” Emma asks as they part ways.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. When you’re finished, go enjoy the party. I’ll be back out there in a bit.” Harry gives her a strained smile and walks out the front door.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Poor sweet Mabel.” Aziraphale paces below the hummingbird feeders. “Poor, dear Harry, this is going to crush him.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley reaches for his husband’s hand. His Angel is so good, so loving, and when he’s anxious like this Crowley’s first reaction is to comfort. He’s stopped mid motion as the front door suddenly opens.</p><p> </p><p>“What will?” Harry stands in the open door, looking first to his mom and Bri on his left. They have pulled the old rocking chairs around to face the porch swing, Andrew behind them leaning against the house. He scans his eyes to Aziraphale, directly in front of him and then to Crowley on the porch swing to his right.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Ngk, pshhhh.” Crowley states eloquently, feeling like a deer caught in a car’s headlights.</p><p> </p><p>“Harry!” Aziraphale clasps his hands over his stomach and begins to pick at his nails. The Angel is in full anxiety overload. “How much of that did you hear, my boy?”</p><p> </p><p>“I heard mine and my daughter’s names, and that I would be crushed.” To Crowley’s relief Harry doesn’t look angry. He looks like the frightened child from 30 years ago who Crowley would sometimes babysit when his mother wanted a night out. “Oh. God.” His eyes lock on Andrew. “Did something happen to Amy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not yet.” Sal murmurs, causing Harry’s gaze to snap back to his mom in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you have a seat?” Aziraphale indicates the open spot on the seat beside Crowley. “And we’ll fill you in on everything.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The trajectory of Brian’s evening has skewed off in directions for which he was completely unprepared.</p><p> </p><p>He has been dealing with the awkwardness of spending time with the Them, while trying his best to ignore the huge Adam/Pepper shaped elephant in the room, or lawn rather.</p><p> </p><p>Adam, apparently needing some time alone to talk with his brother, has taken a walk in the woods with Warlock. Pepper and Wensleydale have both branched out to chat with other, now, former classmates, leaving Brian to stand beside the food tables and wait alone.</p><p> </p><p>After 15 minutes of occasional conversations with his better half‘s extended family, he decides this may be his best opportunity to track down and speak with Warlock’s parents.</p><p> </p><p>Scanning the crowd and not finding either of them, he heads in the direction of the large garage. It seems the best place to find Crowley, and the young man decides it may be better to get the scarier side of his speech out of the way first. If he can get Warlock’s Dad’s blessing, his Pops should be a cinch.</p><p> </p><p>Rounding the corner of the house, he hears voices on the porch, which stop immediately at the sight of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Brian, where are you going?” Aziraphale’s brow is crinkled, causing deep lines in his forehead. Brian’s rarely ever seen him look this sad.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, sorry.” Brian has no clue why he’s apologizing, but for some reason it feels necessary. “I was looking for you and Crowley. Wanted to talk to you about something important.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now’s not the best time, kid.” Crowley turns in his seat on the porch swing to look in Brian’s direction. The silver streaked red-head’s arm draped across the back of the seat. Mr. Weston, er, Harry beside him.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s OK.” Harry’s voice is crackly, it sounds like he’s been crying. Brian spies Miss Harris and several of Crowley’s cousins on the porch as well. “I can go chat with Mom and Emma in the backyard. Should check on Mabel anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay sir?” Brian asks, genuinely concerned. “Can I do anything to help?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry laughs in spite of his tears and gestures for Brian to step up onto the porch. “Please don’t call me sir anymore. You’re cohabitating with my cousin starting this weekend, we’re family now.” The moment Brian makes it onto the porch, Harry wraps him in a brief hug. “How’s Adam?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s coping. Him and Warlock took a walk in the woods to talk.” Released from the hug of his former band director, Brian feels terribly out of his depth.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong with Adam?” Crowley stands, taking Aziraphale’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Um.” Crap, Adam hasn’t told his parents. Brian struggles for a beat of five seconds, debating if it’s his place to tell. The look in Crowley’s snake like eyes decides it for him. “Pepper broke up with him today. During third period.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, oh dear.” Aziraphale’s already sad face, crumples into one of complete devastation. “My sweet baby boy. How did I not notice?”</p><p> </p><p>“You were distracted with my cheater of a wife.” Harry spats viciously. Then looking apologetically at his cousin and his voice softens. “I should’ve told you both. Adam spoke to me at the school, but I felt it was his place to tell you not mine.” Harry pauses to think, then continues. “If you don’t think I’m overstepping, I think I’ll go talk to him. Since we both lost our high school sweethearts today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Makes sense.” Crowley gives his cousin a gentle smirk. His facial expression not changing, he turns his attention to Brian. “What did you need to talk to us about, bud?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>9:15PM, Jackson, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Daniel Keeler, as he’s been known for these last three years, tosses his keys on the coffee table. Sprawling ungracefully across his sofa, he grabs the remote and flicks on the evening news.</p><p> </p><p>Not that the woes of the world affect him, especially if he’s able to pull this off. Losing the cover job today is a bit of an issue, as it would’ve given him a chance at direct access to the home. Meaning after tonight he could’ve had the information required and been done.</p><p> </p><p>However, if he were to tell the truth, he done it on purpose. He’s not sure he wants to be done just yet. Daniel likes the blonde, he loves the things she can do, and all the things she’s willing to do. He loves the fact that she’s stupid and horny and follows him like a little lost puppy.</p><p> </p><p>He knows he can’t take her with him when he leaves. Honestly, he doesn’t want to, but if he can get her to do what needs to be done for him. Take the fall, and he can fuck her brains out in the meantime.....Seems like the ideal scenario.</p><p> </p><p>The bosses don’t seem to mind how he works. They’ve used his services countless times in the last eight years. He’s found his skills are so invaluable, that on the two occasions he has fucked up, they changed his name and had him relocated. It also helps he’s willing to do absolutely anything they ask as long as they offer him protection.</p><p> </p><p>Daniel had checked in after losing the catering job, but once he’d assured his contact that Amy continues to be a viable in for him and a perfect red herring, they agreed to allow him to proceed.</p><p> </p><p>It honestly shouldn’t take too much longer, he just wants to get his rocks off a few more times before his move to the next job. And most likely, a much less attractive target.</p><p> </p><p>Daniel is in the midst of a full gloating session when the screen of his Samsung lights up. Too comfortable to sit up, he stretches his arm until his fingers catch the corner of the phone case, and then drags the device to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Leaning against the armrest, he opens his messages, a new one, just in, from Amy.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, shit.” He sets up quickly. All chances of relaxation out the window for the night.</p><p> </p><p>His boss is not going to be pleased. He’s just lost his way in and possibly blown his cover.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. You Make It Look So Easy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale and Crowley talk about fears and feelings, and then make love in the woods.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is an Eric Church song. Hope you like it, not much story in this one, just the husbands dealing with their fears and making love in the woods under the night sky. Hope you enjoy. ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Thursday, May 20, 12:30AM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale stands at the edge of the porch watching red taillights fade into the night. A parade of catering trucks have just vacated the long driveway, the caravan led by a pink Volkswagen Beetle. Char had been instructed to have the employees follow Shadwell and Tracy into town, and all leftovers to be donated to the shelter.</p><p> </p><p>The house behind him still awake, laughter drifting through pulled curtains and thin glass to meet his ears. A warm reminder of every blessing he has, at the end of a day filled with loss, but also hope.</p><p> </p><p>Harry had confronted Amy over the phone, stating he wasn't sure he could handle looking at her just yet. The two of them agreeing she would move into her parents’ home the following morning. If Harry would permit her to spend one final night in what was once their home, she would allow him and Mabel to have it without a fight.</p><p> </p><p>The most shocking piece of the conversation came when Amy informed Harry that he could have full custody of Mabel. In fact, she also told Harry to have an attorney to draw up dissolution papers requesting any stipulations he likes and she will sign. Her exact words, "I can buy new things, I'm just relieved to be free of the both of you."</p><p> </p><p>Sal and Jake took Mabel home with them for the evening. Harry opted to have a sleepover at the Crowley home, per Adam's request. The two, although years apart in the scope of their former relationships, were suffering from the same heartbreak. The only person they had ever loved romantically has moved on, and tonight they plan to support one another through that loss.</p><p> </p><p>Brian had been one of the last visitors to leave. Crowley gave his full blessing for the young man to join the sleepover. Brian declined on the grounds that he didn't wish to intrude on family time.</p><p> </p><p>"Not that we're not family, sir." He had stated, a tight, sad smile on his face. "I just think that seeing me and Warlock together right now won't do much to help Adam and Harry"</p><p> </p><p>This was also the reasoning Brian had used when deciding to wait to pop the question. After discussing the matter with Aziraphale and Crowley, both men's blessings were given on the compromise that it would be a long engagement and the wedding would be after both Warlock and Brian had graduated college. Relieved that he was welcome into the family, Brian decided he would wait a few weeks to actually propose, Aziraphale begging to know every detail when it happens.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale hears the front door open and close behind him, followed by the familiar tap of snakeskin boots on the deck, and the sound of fabric being set down. The blond smiles as long, sinuous arms slide around his waist and soft lips press kisses against his neck.</p><p> </p><p>"Whatcha thinkin' Dove?" Crowley's breath against sensitive skin causing goose pimples to prickle all along Aziraphale's skin.</p><p> </p><p>"How lucky I am." He leans into Crowley, reveling in the protective embrace. "How I couldn't live without you."</p><p> </p><p>"You'll never need to, Angel." Crowley's raspy voice near Aziraphale's ear. "As long as I’m alive, there’s not a thing in this world that could keep me from you."</p><p> </p><p>He breathes in deeply, laying his hands atop Crowley's where they rest just below Aziraphale's navel. Closing his eyes, he turns his head, kisses his husband's sharp chin and whispers. "I love you."</p><p> </p><p>"I love you too." Crowley sighs in return. When Aziraphale opens his eyes, golden starlight stares back at him. Crowley's eyes are illuminated by the dim light filtering through the curtains. "Take a walk with me."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley places a gentle kiss to Aziraphale's scar, releasing his hold and stepping away. Aziraphale turns to see Crowley retrieve a blanket that he placed on one of the rocking chairs. Slinging the fabric over his shoulder, he takes Aziraphale's hand.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley leads him around the house and across the back lawn. The tables, dance floor, stage and decorations still litter the property. Aziraphale scans the chaos in disgust. "What a mess."</p><p> </p><p>"I'll get it in the morning." Crowley turns to him and smiles. "You've dealt with enough today. Let's forget all worries for the rest of tonight."</p><p> </p><p><em>God, he's beautiful</em>. Aziraphale nods, returning the smile. "So where are you taking me?"</p><p> </p><p>"Somewhere we can be alone." Crowley lifts Aziraphale's hand to his lips. "I know how you overthink every little thing that happens around you. How you let the world cause you to question yourself. Us even. You worry, and then you turn that worry inwardly and use it as a weapon against yourself." Crowley's thumb slides tenderly across Aziraphale's knuckles. As the pair pass the pond, Aziraphale watches the reflections from the string lights behind them dancing over the surface of the rippling water. "I want us to be alone so I can remind you how untrue those thoughts are, and of how much I love you."</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale stares in awe at his husband's profile in the moon light. Every word Crowley just spoke about Aziraphale's self-doubt is true. Most days he can ignore the deep-seated self-loathing, but it's always there, planted in him by an unloving father and cultivated by a cruel ex-lover. The moment he had learned of Amy's indiscretions, the slideshow of old memories began to turn.</p><p> </p><p>Harry is such a lovely boy, always has been. Tall and lithe just like his older cousin with the same sharp cheekbones, but Harry's hair is a sandy-blond and his eyes a startling blue. The young man is smart and funny on top of his looks. If someone could grow tired of and cheat on someone like him, it's not inconceivable that someone as brilliant and stunning as Crowley might, especially after all this time, grow weary of someone as plain, fat and fussy as Aziraphale.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale hates himself for entertaining such thoughts. Crowley is obviously so very much in love with him, but certain scars continue to ache long after they've healed. So, they'll do this well learned dance, to help quiet the demon's that will attempt to eat Aziraphale from within if they don't.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale follows Crowley into the forest, walking for several yards beneath the pines and oaks. Once well away from the lights and noise of the house, the woods open into a clearing. Crowley releases Aziraphale's hand to spread the blanket across dry grass. Settling himself onto the soft fabric, Crowley reaches again for his Angel's hand to pull him down on the blanket as well.</p><p> </p><p>"You're beautiful, Dove." Crowley reassures, skimming his fingers lovingly over a plush cheek and up through soft curls.</p><p> </p><p>"You still think so?" No matter his doubts, Aziraphale knows his husband is a man of honor, a man who will never lie to him. "You're not just saying it out of responsibility, a duty to your vows?"</p><p> </p><p>Crowley purses his lips together tightly and slowly shakes his head. He doesn't need to speak, the look of love in his eyes is nearly devastating.</p><p> </p><p>"If you had a choice to do it all again, would you do it differently?" Aziraphale hates himself for asking, for questioning, but he can't stop. That little monster inside won't quit gnawing at him until he, once again, hears the words from Crowley's mouth. "Rather than settle for me, would you have waited for someone as beautiful as you?"</p><p> </p><p>Crowley whimpers, his face contorting into an expression of pure anguish. He places his hand at the nape of Aziraphale's neck and pushes their foreheads together. "Aziraphale, it will always be you. There is no one more beautiful. No one I would ever want more.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale closes his eyes and allows the words to seep into the cracks in his soul. He can't stop himself, the questions are practically a compulsion. They're never exactly the same, but they always boil down to this. <em>Are you sick of me yet? Have you realized you can do better?</em> "I need you, Anthony. Please never tire of me."</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't realize he's crying until Crowley's thumb gently wipes the stray tears from his face.</p><p> </p><p>"Never, Angel." Crowley's voice cracks, his expression that of a man desperate to be believed. "I need you too. Will you let me show you?"</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale nods, eyes wide he allows Crowley to push him back onto cream and blue fabric. Crowley shifts, straddling Aziraphale's hips and begins to slowly undo the iridescent buttons of the blond's bright yellow shirt. "Tell me if you want me to stop."</p><p> </p><p>"We're far enough out, no one can see or hear us." Aziraphale cups the side of Crowley's face. "And I need to feel you, touch you."</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale sometimes compares himself to the tooth he'd snapped in half as a child. Both can be sealed to appear as if they'd never been broken at all, but time, wear and abuse can cause the seals to split and the cracks to be exposed. Without follow ups, reinsertion of adhesives both are doomed to break apart completely.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley is not only his adhesive, but his balm. In contrast to the cold ache and single, clean hair line break of his incisor, Aziraphale's cracks are many, red, ugly, swollen gashes. Each fracture lined in welts that burn and throb. Crowley's presence, his touch and his words have the power to not only cement Aziraphale's fissured soul but soothe the monstrous clawing pain that settles itself in the gaping wounds.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley finishes with the last button and moves long splayed fingers through the soft down covering Aziraphale's torso. Hands skimming gently over the soft hills and valleys of his chest and stomach.</p><p> </p><p>"My perfect Angel." Crowley's words are filled with reverence. His gaze trails up along Aziraphale's body, until golden eyes meet blue. They plead for Aziraphale to believe him, to take Crowley's words to heart and keep them there. "I love you."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley pulls his dark T-Shirt up and over his head, tossing it into the grass. He moves slowly, sensually, pressing his thin, muscular chest against the soft curves of his husband's. Hands on each side of Aziraphale's face, Crowley twists his fingers in feathery curls. Continuing to search Aziraphale's eyes, Crowley whispers the words again, his breath ghosting over his Angel's lips. "I love you."</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale shudders, and Crowley closes the small distance between their lips, kissing him hungrily. One of Aziraphale's hands finds purchase in the silken strands of Crowley's hair, the other slides possessively along Crowley's spine. Manicured nails scratching delicately along the bumps and ridges covered in freckled skin. Reaching the small of Crowley's back, Aziraphale thrusts upward, lost in the feeling of his husband's hard cock against his own through the layers of fabric.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you see what you do to me?" Crowley's lips slip from Aziraphale's and begin to travel downward along his jaw and to his jugular. Hot lips, tongue and teeth teasing the sensitive skin. "I wish you could see it Angel. See how absolutely perfect you are."</p><p> </p><p>"Anthony." Aziraphale whimpers. God he loves this, loves Crowley. Loves how they are able to hold one another together. Two broken and imperfect people, when placed together create something so perfect. No, not just perfect, what they have is beyond that. Divine? No still not good enough but closer. Ineffable? Yes, that's it. "I'm sorry darling that I continue to be so needy after so many years. You shouldn't need to constantly cater to me. I'm being nothing but a burden."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley freezes in his worship of Aziraphale's skin and lifts his head. "Never apologize for needing me, for allowing me to love and care for you. It's not a burden, it's a privilege.” Crowley actually looks hurt this time. “Dammit Aziraphale, will you ever trust me?"</p><p> </p><p>"I do trust you, Anthony." Aziraphale blinks rapidly, the question throwing off kilter. "I know how good and honorable you are, that you'd never hurt me."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm only good and honorable because of you." Crowley huffs out a laugh. "You've been with me twenty years come September. That's nearly half my life, and the majority of my adult life. Ya with me?"</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale nods, but he's honestly not sure where Crowley is taking him on this word journey.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright, so most people have gotten used to the me I am now. You only know the me I am now<em>.</em>" Crowley's full weight still pressing onto Aziraphale as he talks. Aziraphale catches himself smiling at the way Crowley can be so normal with him, so comfortable, even while in an intimate position. Proof that Aziraphale is for Crowley exactly what Crowley is for him. <em>Home</em>. "I've never been the withdrawn, selfish me around you."</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale can't resist the urge and kisses his husband's nose. Just the quickest of pecks.</p><p> </p><p>"Listen, I'm saying something important." Crowley raises his eyebrows and Aziraphale smiles. "Anyway, that other guy was shit. Not bad really, I mean I wasn't evil, just not some great, honorable saint you seem to think I am. I mean I was there for certain friends and family, but that's it. I didn't give to charities, feed the homeless, or bite my tongue when people pissed me off in public, and I certainly never went out of my way to help strangers."</p><p> </p><p>"You helped me, and I was a stranger." Aziraphale smiles, feeling, not only better about himself, but flirty, almost playful. Looking into Crowley's face as the gorgeous man confesses his undying love will do that. <em>Dear God, how did I get so lucky?</em></p><p> </p><p>"That's cause you knocked the wind out of me and you know it!" Crowley smiles back. "I'm the man I am today because you love me, and I can't be me anymore without you, I wouldn't know how. So, you gotta make me a deal."</p><p> </p><p><em>This is new</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"And what is that?" Aziraphale asks demurely.</p><p> </p><p>"We aren't old yet, but we're getting older." Crowley nods as if asking for Aziraphale's understanding. The blond nods in return. "Promise you'll outlive me."</p><p> </p><p>"Anthony!" Azirphale is scandalized. This isn't something they've ever discussed before. "I will make no such promise. For one it's beyond my abilities to control and I won't make any promise to you I'm not certain I can keep."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley caresses Aziraphale's face with his thumbs. "C'mon Angel, we've dealt with your fears, now you gotta soothe mine. This is the thing I fear most in all the world, living without you."</p><p> </p><p>"You're asking too much, Anthony. I refuse to make an oath to you that I have a fifty percent chance of breaking, and you'd be setting me up to perhaps make lying to you the last thing I do on earth." Aziraphale twists a red wave of hair between his fingers. "And I'd rather go first anyway. You're the first happiness I've ever known." Crowley opens his mouth to argue and Aziraphale quiets him with an index finger to the lips. "Now let's have no more fear from either of us. I'm sorry my self-doubt has put us both in such a state."</p><p> </p><p>“No, I'm sorry." Crowley rests his forehead against his Angel's. "I didn't mean to take the focus from you and put it on me."</p><p> </p><p>"Nonsense, I'll comfort you anytime. I just cannot stand the thought of your death. It's a discussion I refuse to have." Aziraphale wraps his arms around Crowley's waist. "Now, make love to me under the moonlight, I want to hear your voice echo throughout these hills as you scream my name."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley's breathing stutters. Nodding vigorously he sets back on his knees, his hands fumbling as he tries to quickly unfasten and remove his jeans.</p><p> </p><p>"So how are we doing this?" Aziraphale watches his husband's lean body shift and flex as he fights his way out of the tight denim and boxers. Once he is victorious, Aziraphale kicks his own trousers and underwear off with his shoes. "Did you come prepared?"</p><p> </p><p>"I did." Crowley waggles his eyebrows. Snatching up his newly discarded jeans, he grabs a small tube of lubricant from the pocket and slicks his right hand. "Had my eye on this really sexy blond at the party. Spent the entire night hoping I'd get laid."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm so sorry you got stuck with me instead." Aziraphale teases, pulling Crowley's naked body down against him.</p><p> </p><p>"Shut it." Crowley growls against Aziraphale's lips, before claiming them with his own.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale's hands explore Crowley's taut back, the lean muscle flexing enticingly beneath his touch. Crowley's tongue slips along the sensitive crease of his Angel's lips, which immediately open to permit access.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale moans when Crowley's long arm snakes between them allowing slippery fingers to play at his entrance. The red-head’s hot mouth and tongue once again sliding from Aziraphale's lips to explore along his body.</p><p> </p><p>"Anthony." Aziraphale mewls as his husband mouth reaches his throbbing shaft, Crowley's velvet tongue swiping upward from hilt to tip, as one of his fingers breaches Aziraphale's entrance.</p><p> </p><p>"You taste as good as you look." Crowley's teeth scrape gently on the head of Aziraphale's cock, his tongue eagerly lapping away the beads of pre-come as they form. "And you look so fucking good."</p><p> </p><p>A second finger finds it's way inside as Crowley ravenously engulfs Aziraphale's dick. The sensations are too much and not enough at the same time. Crowley's fingers curling and flexing, opening him up so deliciously. The redhead's skilled tongue swirling over sensitive skin as Crowley moves Aziraphale into the back of his throat and sucks hard. A third finger joining the others. The elegant digits pressing against Aziraphale's prostate.</p><p> </p><p>"Anthony!" Aziraphale screams. "Oh, oh d-darling ss-stop! I'm too close!" He reaches for Crowley's hair, pulling him away.</p><p> </p><p>"Why'd you make me stop?" Crowley pouts and nuzzles his Angel's red cock. It twitches with each of Aziraphale's heart beats. "I love it when you come."</p><p> </p><p>"Then watch it happen while you're inside me." Aziraphale pants, attempting to get his body under control. "I want to come while you fuck me."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes sir." Crowley lunges forward and locks his lips with his Angel's. Aziraphale pats his hand about on the blanket searching for the tube of lubricant. Eventually finding it, he squirts an ample amount of the liquid into his palm and wraps it around Crowley's cock.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley moans, head falling against Aziraphale's shoulder. "Holy fuck Angel!"</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck me Anthony." Aziraphale purrs into Crowley's ear. "Fuck me now."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley pushes himself onto his knees, rump resting on his heels. Aziraphale strokes him a few times more, enjoying the look of pure ecstasy on his lover's face. "You're gorgeous, Anthony. Beyond stunning my sweet darling. Thank you for loving me."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley removes the soft hand pleasuring his cock and raises it to his lips. "Thank <em>you</em>, Angel."</p><p> </p><p>Entwining the fingers with the hand he holds, Crowley uses his free hand to line up his cock and pushes beyond Aziraphale's slick, open entrance, causing both men to moan in unison.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley again falls forward, golden eyes mere centimeters from Aziraphale's own, the redhead begins moving rhythmically.</p><p> </p><p>"You're beautiful Aziraphale." Crowley pants, his face contorting with pleasure. "So goddamn beautiful."</p><p> </p><p>"My Anthony." Aziraphale's free hand cupping his husband's bare ass and squeezing. God how he loves Crowley's ass. "My sweet perfect Anthony."</p><p> </p><p>It's all too amazing, the rhythmic slide of Crowley's cock against his prostate, the tight clench of Crowley's ass in his palm, the redhead's tight abs flexing and rubbing against Aziraphale's trapped dick. It's overwhelming and mind-blowingly perfect. Aziraphale can't look away from the exquisite snake-like eyes, filled with love and lust, transfixed on Aziraphale's own.</p><p> </p><p>"Are, are you close?" Aziraphale gasps.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah." Crowley concedes, never breaking eye contact.</p><p> </p><p>“Come for me my love. I, I want to see it in your eyes.” Aziraphale bathes in Crowley’s gaze. “I’ll be right behind you.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s not long after, as they both ebb and flow together, riding the wave of the other’s body, that Crowley comes. He shouts Aziraphale’s name so loudly, it undoubtedly echoes for miles across the forested hills. His eyes are bright and desperate, as Crowley loses himself in the wave of bliss. His seed and pulsing cock hit Aziraphale’s prostate with such force, Aziraphale’s vision blurs with the intensity of his own orgasm. Nails digging into Crowley’s ass cheeks, Aziraphale screams his husband’s name with the same enthusiasm Crowley had called out his.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley collapses onto Aziraphale, breathing heavily against his Angel’s shoulder, still clinging to Aziraphale’s right hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay, my dear.?” Aziraphale removes his hand from Crowley’s rear and strokes his fingers through fiery hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Fantastic.” Crowley turns his face to nuzzle Aziraphale’s neck. “Over the moon. Fucking perfect.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think we should head back?” Aziraphale kisses Crowley’s snake tattoo and buries his nose in his husband’s soft hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Not yet.” Crowley half begs, clinging to the man beneath him. “Stay like this way with me for just a while longer.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Dangerous</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amy shows her true colors. Harry mourns. Aziraphale and Crowley help Brian and Warlock settle into their new home.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is a Royal Deluxe song. Hope you enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>6:15AM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley's feet are cold, exposed as they are in the damp morning air, but the rest of his body is warm and comfortable, due to the soft Angel beneath him. Opening his eyes he sees that, at some point in the night, Aziraphale has wrapped the tartan blanket around the both of them like a cocoon.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley shifts, not enough to disturb his sleeping husband, but enough that he can watch the peaceful way his lover breathes. Aziraphale is breathtaking, all soft skin and laugh-lines. <em>He looks like Heaven. My Heaven.</em></p><p> </p><p>Crowley hadn't meant to seem morbid the night before, but their inevitable mortality has been playing on his mind lately. Nearly two decades ago Aziraphale had discussed with Crowley his family history, and something that had been a bit worrisome then is growing all the more terrifying as of late.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"I call it the Fell curse." Aziraphale had said jokingly. Crowley hadn't found it funny at all. "The men on my father's side don't live long past the age of fifty. Their hearts give out, one way or another."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was soon after the builders had finished construction on Aziraphale's new library and renovations turning the old one into bedrooms for the soon to be arriving babies. The new extension had more shelves and room. This meant boxes of books which had previously remained unpacked, were now being sifted through and unpacked. It was in one such box that Aziraphale rediscovered old photos from his youth in London.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Is there a way to prevent it from happening?" Crowley studied the photo in his hand. A young couple smiling, the man had the same blond fluff hair as his son, the woman had brown hair but her face was identical to that of his Angel. "Any sort of habit or lifestyle changes we can make?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Unfortunately, no." Aziraphale carried an armful of books from a box near the doorway to his writing desk. He placed them carefully on the wooden surface and began sorting them one by one. "My father had been extremely active and health conscience. No alcohol, limited amounts of sugar or fat in his diet, and he had been the second youngest to die at 45. His two brothers passed at 55 and 51, also of heart attacks. My cousin Joseph was the youngest at 34." Aziraphale paused, his brow furrowed. "He had been outside assisting workers in painting his home. Joseph stepped inside after an hour or so, telling his partner that he was terribly tired. He laid down for a nap and never again woke." He ran a finger across the upper most book on the pile. "His heart stopped in his sleep."</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>They had only discussed it that one time, but the conversation never truly left Crowley. Aziraphale had turned 49 that previous February. Crowley had smiled and celebrated while deep inside he could hear the clock of time ticking, and he's petrified.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley knows it is selfish of him to place those fears on his Angel, but in the moment the emotions were too much, and a small portion of that fear oozed out. He loves Aziraphale, oh Jesus how he loves him, and Crowley can't tolerate the thought of spending a single moment in this world without him.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale groans. He shifts under Crowley's body, blue eyes fluttering open.</p><p> </p><p>"Good morning Dove." Crowley kisses him on the chin. "Did you sleep well?</p><p> </p><p>"Surprisingly, yes." Aziraphale smiles then immediately flinches in pain. "But my back is angry at having spent the night on the hard ground." He flinches. "I'm not as young as I once was."</p><p> </p><p><em>Don't remind me</em>. Crowley clings to him just a little more tightly. "Let me help you up, Angel. We'll slip inside the house before anyone wakes up."</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you, my love." The blond sighs. "I think I'd like a hot bath."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley rises and helps Aziraphale to his feet. Grabbing his clothes, he begins to stiffly redress. "Is that an invitation?"</p><p> </p><p>"Of course." Aziraphale kisses him sweetly, before sliding on his trousers.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>12:30PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry walks over the threshold of his front door. All of his furniture, photos and earthly belongings remain present, but the space feels cold and empty.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry baby boy. " His mom steps through the door behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so very sorry."</p><p> </p><p>Harry nods, giving them a strained smile, not daring to speak. He knows as soon as he does, he won't be able to hold back his tears. He's thankful the elementary school is in session for a week longer than it's secondary counterpart. The extra time alone gives him the ability to get everything situated before he needs to set down with Mabel and talk. He worries how the ten-year-old will handle all that's happening.</p><p> </p><p>"Greg called last night." Sal follows as he silently roams the house. "He talked to his partners at the company. They agreed to handle his workload for the next three weeks. He's flying in to see you."</p><p> </p><p>Harry closes his eyes briefly, in an effort to hold back the flood threatening to escape. Opening them, he passes into his bedroom. "He shouldn't disrupt his life for me."</p><p> </p><p>"He loves you, buddy, and he misses you somethin' awful." Sal pauses in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>"What about Airi and Phillip?" Harry opens his closet, stomach suddenly full of lead. His clothes still hanging neatly on the left, nothing but empty hangers to the right.</p><p> </p><p>"They're coming too." She leans against the doorframe, head tilted to rest against the wood, arms crossed over their chest. "We all agreed that for a week or two of the visit Airi, Mabel and Phillip would stay with me and Jake. Give you and your brother some time alone to do whatever."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah." Harry concedes solemnly, moving away from the closet. He can't bring himself to even glance at the bed as he walks past his mom and back down the hallway. On his return trip to the living room he can't control himself, snatching photo after photo off the wall. "Whatever sounds good."</p><p> </p><p>Every picture in his hands contains Amy. Harry, her and Mabel at a family picnic, the trio at Cedar Point, a vacation trip to Kalahari Water Resort. He snaps when he reaches the photo of their wedding day. Crumpling to the floor, his back against the wall, he clings to the framed picture of himself in a tux and Amy in white silk and lace. They're glowing, smiling, faces full of hope and joy for a future he believed in. A future that has ceased to exist.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you want me to get rid of those?" Sal lowers themself to set beside him, wrapping their arm around his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>He's crying too hard to speak. He leans into his mother's embrace and cries until he can cry no more. After several minutes, he takes a deep breath and settles back against the wall.</p><p> </p><p>"The wedding photos, yeah. Burn them." Harry hands them the picture of the happy young couple. "I'll keep the family photos for Mabel, she may want them."</p><p> </p><p>"You're a good man Harry. I'm proud of you." They lay the frame they’ve been charged with destroying to the side. "Is there anything else I can do to help right now? Anything at all?"</p><p> </p><p>"You're doing it Mom." He rests his head against their shoulder once more. "Thank you."</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>1:00PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Amy might have said she was going to her parents, but what's another lie on top of all the others? Her true destination? She stands on Daniel's porch, her SUV behind her full of her clothes and jewelry, her cell phone and charger in hand. She had delayed her arrival just long enough to stop at the cellular store in Jackson and remove herself from her soon to be ex-husband's plan.</p><p> </p><p>Amy knocks. For a beat of 20 seconds, there is only silence, then shuffling, the slow beat of footsteps and then finally Daniel pulling open the door, looking very much like he does not want her there. She's not hurt, she'd been expecting this.</p><p> </p><p>"Listen, I.." Daniel begins.</p><p> </p><p>"No, you listen." Amy cuts him off. "I know exactly what you're doing." She waits as his low intelligence attempts to catch up. he stares at her in shock, and she rolls her eyes at his open-mouthed gape. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not stupid."</p><p> </p><p>"I have no idea what you're talking about." Daniel shakes his head, eyeing her warily.</p><p> </p><p>"No?" She curls her nose and bobs her head mockingly. "You're not after the two old queers' money?"</p><p> </p><p>Daniel doesn't move, just continues to gawk brainlessly. Amy huffs a growl. "You really are fucking dim, aren't you?"</p><p> </p><p>"No." He sputters. "Wait, so how long did you know?"</p><p> </p><p>"The entire time, obviously." She rolls her head back, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Did you think I was fucking you because you're so damn irresistible?"</p><p> </p><p>"Well, yeah." He looks about bewildered.</p><p> </p><p>"You're a goddamn unemployed, former caterer who drives a fucking mom car." She runs her hands through her hair, returning her gaze to his face. "I was better off with Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes school teacher than your worthless ass."</p><p> </p><p>"Then why are you here?" Daniel's voice drops, and his face grows red.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you not paying attention at all?" <em>My God, how dense is he?</em> "The same reason you are, only I've been chasing it since my youth, and when we're young we don't always come up with the best plans." Her hands on her hips, she looks him over disapprovingly. "Apparently when I'm 35 I still don't."</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck you." Daniel says defensively.</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe, dunno, we'll see where this conversation goes." Amy smirks. "I thought marrying into the family would get me a portion of that money." She curls her nose in disgust. "Instead, all I got was a clingy wimp of a husband and a sniveling little brat. The whole bunch of 'em are more interested in love and respect for family than trying to achieve any monetary gain." Her mocking tone returning.</p><p> </p><p>"So, you thought, since I was after the money too, I could get you closer to getting your hands on some of it." Daniel tilts his head, looking apprehensive but impressed.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I'll be damned." Amy say sarcastically. "You're not as big an idiot as I thought."</p><p> </p><p>Daniel shrugs his shoulders, resigned. "Problem is they've caught us together. That farce is played itself out. I was just packing up to take my punishment and hopefully be given the chance to move on."</p><p> </p><p>"I think I know a way that you, I and whoever you're working for can get what we want." She pushes past him, inviting herself inside.</p><p> </p><p>"How's that?" He flattens himself against the frame, allowing her to pass.</p><p> </p><p>"Introduce me to your employer." She smiles over her shoulder. "They're all about family, right? We threaten that and they'll give us anything we want."</p><p> </p><p>"What do you have in mind?" Daniel closes the door behind him stalking after her as she strolls into his living room.</p><p> </p><p>Amy flops onto the sofa making herself comfortable. "Let me talk to whoever you're working for first. I want to make sure I've got protection from any possible consequences.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>4:00PM Moonchild Residence</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Victoria, Vic, Moonchild, waits in the hallway outside her daughter's closed bedroom door. Resting her hand against the smooth oak, she worries. Pepper hasn't eaten or spoken to her all day, only emerging to use the restroom then rushing back to her solitude.</p><p> </p><p>Vic raps gingerly on the hard wood. "Pip? Do you wanna talk?"</p><p> </p><p>Silence.</p><p> </p><p>"Listen sweetheart, I'm not really sure what happened between you and Adam, but I'm here if you need me." She catches the sound of her daughter's bed squeaking then the blast of a video game explosion. "Will you at least eat something?"</p><p> </p><p>"M'not hungry." Pepper's voice is small and tired, so unlike the fiery spirit Vic is accustomed to in her child.</p><p> </p><p>"Even if I drive us to Gallipolis? I was thinking we'd eat at China One." Vic pleads. "Please, Pip, talk to me."</p><p> </p><p>Shuffling, the ding of a PlayStation pausing and footsteps approaching the door. Pepper opens it just a crack and steps away, heading back to the edge of her bed. "C'mon in."</p><p> </p><p>Vic cautiously treads to the side of Pepper's bed and sets. She's never seen her child so disheveled. "What did he do?"</p><p> </p><p>"Nothing." Pepper laughs, shaking her head and staring at her game controller. "Nothing at all. He's practically perfect."</p><p> </p><p>"Then what caused the break-up?"</p><p> </p><p>"I did." Pulling her leg up on the bed, Pepper turns to face her mom. Remorse shines in her beautiful brown eyes. "I told him we need to take a break."</p><p> </p><p>"Not to pry." Vic smiles when Pepper eyes her dubiously. "Okay, I'm a mom, prying is what we do." Vic brings both her legs onto the bed, situating them into the criss-cross position. "It's apparent, neither of you want a break. So, why?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm going to Stanford, he's going to Marshall, we'll be spending the next four years twenty-five hundred miles apart." She closes her eyes and sighs. "And I'm the only person he's ever dated. I'd rather tear this scab off now than risk getting my heart broken while I'm in the middle of my studies."</p><p> </p><p>"Wait." Vic holds her hands palm out. "Are you, seriously, going to sit there and tell me, that you think Adam Crowley would cheat on you?"</p><p> </p><p>"No!" Pepper looks scandalized. "He's too good for that, but there's nothing bad about realizing you'd rather find someone closer and more available."</p><p> </p><p>"Pip, baby, if he really loves you, if it's meant to be, that won't happen." Vic slides her fingers along the stitching of the comforter.</p><p> </p><p>"Not gonna risk it." Pepper stands, walking to her closet she takes down a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Besides if it's meant to be, the universe will bring us together again someday."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm so proud of the young woman you've become Pip." Vic can feel the overwhelming pride swelling in her chest.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, yeah." Pepper rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the bathroom. "Don't wanna talk about this stuff anymore, let's go get some Chinese food."</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Friday, May 21, 5:00PM, Columbus, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The apartments of Wilson Place are stunning. Two bedrooms, two baths, a large living room with dark hardwood floors, cream walls, fully furnished with a large window over looking the city. The kitchen is modern with sharp corners and appliances as smart as Aziraphale's mobile. The blond stands in the fully furnished living room, the floor covered in boxes. It's been nearly six hours since they've arrived and Crowley is staggering through the front entry with the last of the boxes.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you need us to stay and help finish unpacking?" Crowley pants as he places the container of pots and pans on the shining floor.</p><p> </p><p>"We won't put you to anymore work." Brian smiles appreciatively. "But you're welcome to stay and visit as long as you like. We can take you all to dinner. My treat as thanks for all you've done today."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley's smile lights up the room and Aziraphale is nearly giddy himself at the sight. Since the night of the engagement conversation, Brian and Crowley have bonded. The red-head mentioning, multiple times over the last two days, how pleased he is that Warlock is with someone so responsible. An individual who won't just protect and care for their child, but also has respect and compassion for the rest of their family.</p><p> </p><p>"Nah." Crowley claps Brian on the shoulder. "We should give you two your space. First night in your new home and all."</p><p> </p><p>"Would you wanna stay?" Warlock addresses his twin, the two of them sifting through a box of Blu-Ray's. "A little time in the city might get your mind off things."</p><p> </p><p>"Like Dad said, I shouldn't intrude." Adam shakes his heads, but it's obvious in his eyes he would love to accept the offer.</p><p> </p><p>"You won't be intruding." Brian chimes in. "Once school starts who knows how often we'll get to hang out. This'll just be another sleepover like so many we've had in the past. Might as well put the guest room to use."</p><p> </p><p>"You sure?" Adam's eyebrows lift hopefully.</p><p> </p><p>"Hell, yeah I'm sure." Brian smiles. "You're my brother too."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Okay. Awesome." Adam beams, turning to his sibling they continue the job of unpacking Brian's movie collection and shelving the cases on the large entertainment center.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley waves a hand catching Brian's attention, gesturing for the younger man to follow him into the kitchen. Aziraphale follows, curious to Brian's reaction to their agreed upon offer.</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you sir but I couldn't." Aziraphale hears Brian say with confidence as he steps through the kitchen doorway. "I start my new job in a week and we've saved up plenty over the last two years from our jobs."</p><p> </p><p>"I know and I can't tell you enough how proud I am of both of you." Crowley holds the check for $20,000 in his outstretched hand. "But this can be for emergencies or going out. You could use some of it to take Warlock somewhere really fancy when you finally get around to popping the question."</p><p> </p><p>"No offense Mr. Crowley." Brian holds his right hand in front of himself. "But I've got extra put back for that as well. You've given me more than enough with your blessing."</p><p> </p><p>"It's just Crowley kid." The red head smiles. " No more of this sir or mister, just Crowley." His eyebrows dart upward. "Unless you wanna call me Dad."</p><p> </p><p>Brian's eyes go wide, his jaw slack. "Seriously?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yup." Crowley folds the check and hands it to Aziraphale. "I consider you blood now."</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you, sir" Brian shakes himself. "Umm, Dad." He jitters with nervous excitement. It's apparent by the way in which his arms twitch, he's fighting the urge to hug his soon to father-in-law.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley smiles and offers his hand to shake. When Brian grasps the offered appendage, Crowley pulls him into a hug. "Take care of my boy."</p><p> </p><p>"With my life." Brian's face is red, his eyes bright as they break the embrace. "I swear to God."</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley visit another ten minutes to ensure everyone is settled. They leave money with Adam so that he can purchase clothes and a toothbrush for his stay, along with instructions to call when he is ready to come home.</p><p> </p><p>Nearly two hours after that, Crowley is parking the Bentley in front of their home. His golden eyes glowing in the dash lights, he leans across the center console to kiss Aziraphale. "So, we've got the house to ourselves, Angel. What would you like to do?"</p><p> </p><p>"I can think of a few things." Azirapahle looks up at his husband through his eyelashes when a glint of light and movement catch his attention. Crowley notices the shift and turns to look in the direction Aziraphale's stare has diverted.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you leave a light on?" Crowley's lips are pursed, he's eyeing the house cautiously.</p><p> </p><p>"I did not." Not only are the living room and their bedroom lights on, but the front door is wide open.</p><p> </p><p>"Stay in the car, Angel. Get in the driver seat and lock the door. If anything happens drive away." Crowley is unbuckled and out of the car before Aziraphale can argue.</p><p> </p><p>"Anthony." Aziraphale hisses exiting the vehicle as well "Get back here this instant."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley doesn't seem to hear him, already passing the home's threshold. Aziraphale hurries to catch up. There is no way in Heaven or Hell he's going to let his husband face an intruder alone. So focused is he on the path Crowley took ahead of him, that Aziraphale doesn't notice the dark figure rounding the house behind him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Under Pressure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A threat is realized and loved ones are in danger.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>How long did it take me to use a Queen song as the chapter title? This long obviously.<br/>Hope you all enjoy ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale is halfway across the porch when a strong arm clenches around his waist and a hand clamps over his throat. What feels to be a male body presses firmly against him, the intruder taller and much stronger than the blond.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t make a sound.” A deep voice whispers in his ear. The man’s face so close, Aziraphale can smell garlic on his breath. “I’m not the only one here. You scream and your husband dies.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh God, Oh God, Oh God</em> “I-I swear, I’ll be silent. Please don’t hurt him.” Aziraphale whispers, moving his head as far from the offensive mouth as possible.</p><p> </p><p>The intruder shifts behind him, pushing his body intrusively against his victim’s backside. A whimper escapes against Aziraphale’s will as the assailant’s hand leaves his throat and slides into his front trouser pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“Shush you pretty thing.” The voice purrs. “I’m not going to hurt you, just leaving you a message.”</p><p> </p><p>The hand lingers, fingers lightly caressing Aziraphale’s thigh, before slowly slipping its way free. “Remember, not a sound until I’m gone.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale nods, lips pursed, eyes shut tightly.</p><p> </p><p>“So well behaved and so lovely.” The arm around Aziraphale’s middle yanks him back with force, the other body pushing into him all the harder. “Some old friends send their regards.”</p><p> </p><p>And just like that, the man is gone. Aziraphale drops heavily to his knees, the pain from the impact barely registering in his shock. There is a suffocating pressure in his chest and he’s unable to properly catch his breath.</p><p> </p><p><em>There’s more than one!</em> The thought forcing him to his feet. <em>Oh God, Anthony!</em></p><p> </p><p>Looking about, he sees no sign of the frightening stranger and wills himself to move. He’s dizzy, there is a vice crushing his chest, but he needs to find his husband. Needs Crowley to be safe.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony!” He cries out, stumbling into the foyer. His vision is tunneling, he wants to collapse, melt into a sobbing mess on the floor. “Please, darling, answer me!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here, Angel.” Crowley pokes his head out of the bedroom. His features shift from pensive to protective the moment he looks on his husband’s face. Circling the doorframe, Crowley rushes to gather Aziraphale in his arms. “Shit! Dove, what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“There was a man.” He clings to Crowley, Aziraphale’s fingers clenching around the black fabric at the back of the red heads t-shirt. His face pressed against Crowley’s chest, Aziraphale sobs. “Grabbed me from behind. Pressed his body against mine.” Aziraphale pauses to catch his breath. “He-he put his hand in my front trouser pocket and..” Aziraphale swallows. “Caressed my thigh.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll kill him.” Crowley snarls.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s knees give out, Crowley’s strong arms the only thing holding him up. “We need to lock ourselves somewhere safe and call the authorities, Anthony. The man mentioned he wasn’t alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley holds Aziraphale close, maneuvering the both of them towards their personal library. Once through the door Crowley helps Aziraphale to the plush reading chair. “Call 911, Angel, lock this door behind me. I’m about to go shoot the handsy motherfucker.”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Aziraphale jumps up and immediately falls. “Please Anthony. I can’t breathe. I’m scared. You’ll get yourself killed!” He clings to the leg of Crowley’s jeans, body shaking in fear. “Don’t leave me, please, I need you!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Angel I’m sorry.” Crowley crouches down in front of his husband, sliding his fingers through soft curls. “Let me lock the door, okay? I’m not leaving.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale nods quickly. Crowley kisses him before hurrying off to lock the wooden doors. Rushing back to his kneeling angel, the red head scoops the blond into his arms and moves both of them to the reading chair. Crowley sits first, pulling Aziraphale into his lap.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale curls in tightly to his husband’s chest, crying until his eyes are dry, as Crowley calls Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>“You need to stop that.” Aziraphale tearfully scolds as Crowley ends the phone call. “You cannot continue to treat me that way. I’ve tolerated it long enough!”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley tenses. “Stop what? What did I do Angel?”</p><p> </p><p>“Needlessly playing the hero.” Aziraphale lifts his head and cups each side of Crowley’s face with his hands. “Running off to slay the dragon when the threat isn’t imminent. Defending my honor at the threat of your life.”</p><p> </p><p>“He had no right to touch you.” Crowley’s golden eyes flicker over Aziraphale’s face. “To hurt you, I can’t let that stand.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can, and you will.” Aziraphale presses their foreheads together. “You’d hurt me so much worse if you leave me in this world without you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Angel.” Crowley gasps, pulling Aziraphale closer. “I never thought. I’m sorry. Crowley’s lips press to the crown of Aziraphale’s hair. He murmurs into platinum curls. “But if you are in imminent danger, don’t expect me not to react. I won’t let someone hurt you. I’ll die before I let that go.”</p><p> </p><p>“I understand.” Aziraphale returns his head to Crowley’s shoulder. “I’d react the same in such a situation.”</p><p> </p><p>They cling to one another in the dark room, speaking soft words of comfort, until the flash of Andrew’s cruiser lights shine from outside.</p><p> </p><p>Hand-in-hand, the couple exit their sanctuary and wait in the doorway of their bedroom. Soon after Andrew enters, another patrolman follows closely behind.</p><p> </p><p>“Come outside.” Andrew waves for the two of them to follow. “Tell me what happened while my colleague looks around.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley step onto the porch and settle into the rocking chairs in front of the large front window. Andrew leans against one of the porch pillars, waiting for them to speak.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale begins listing everything from the second he and Crowley left the car. How an intruder had grabbed him, the horrible way he had touched him, and the sinister words the intruder had whispered in his ears.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you check your pocket?” All three turn their heads to look at Andrew’s coworker, who now stands near the door. “Ya know, the one he put his hand in?”</p><p> </p><p>“You care not to sound so callous about it?” Crowley growls. “He was assaulted.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not meaning to sound callous.” The man shakes his head. “I’m sorry if it came off that way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Andrew points to the younger man. “This is Travis, he’s new, I’m training him. He’s going to be my replacement when I retire next month.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Travis.” Aziraphale smiles. Standing he reaches into his pocket. “Let me apologize for my husband, he’s a bit protective...” <em>What’s this?</em></p><p> </p><p>Beside the folded check from earlier is another piece of paper. Bringing both items forth, Aziraphale gives the check to his husband, and unfolds the other.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a note.” Aziraphale turns the folded square in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“What does it say?” Crowley stands, coming up behind him to look over his shoulder. Aziraphale smiles when protective hands press gently at his waist.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know, dearest. I haven’t a chance to read it yet.” Unfolding the document, the smile vanishes from the blond’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello sunshine.” Aziraphale’s breath hitches at the endearment. Taking a deep breath, he falls against his husband and continues. “Seems you have something of mine, and I want it back. All of it, with interest, $2.4 million in cash, delivered personally by your lying whore ass. No Anthony, no police involvement at all. Just you, alone and my money. If you don’t follow through, you’ll regret it, as will the rest of your family. Enjoy the next 72 hours. Signed, an old friend”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Crowley whispers, his hold on Aziraphale becoming firmer. His voice much louder as he repeats the word. “No!”</p><p> </p><p>“Where is Adam?” Andrew pushes himself from the pillar and scans the yard.</p><p> </p><p>“With Warlock and Brian.” Aziraphale turns to face Andrew better. He can feel Crowley shaking beside him. “He plans to stay for a week or two.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. Don’t give out their address, and they should be safe.” Andrew begins typing on his phone. “I can’t see whoever this is knowing enough about us to branch out further than your children.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gabriel would. And Raven.” Aziraphale feels numb at this point, his stress levels having reached their peak all too often this evening.</p><p> </p><p>“But Gabriel’s dead, and Raven’s still in prison.” Andrew turns the smart phone towards Aziraphale. It’s Raven Sable’s mugshot, underneath his current status, Incarcerated. “Had to make certain of the fact.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then, you think it’s best to keep all this between the four of us?” Travis glances among the group. “So, you don’t panic anyone else?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes and no.” Andrew pockets his phone. “We have too many family members to notify anyway. It’d take a lot more than 72 hours to tell them all.” He holds up an index finger. “We do need to get the department involved.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, they explicitly said not to do that.” Aziraphale interrupts. “I don’t want to risk them finding and hurting my children. We are going to do this exactly the way they ask.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Aziraphale, no.” Crowley turns his Angel so the two are facing. “I’m not handing you over to some creep, with who knows what intent.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t have them hurting Adam and Warlock.” Aziraphale begs. “Please, don’t tell me you’d sacrifice our children for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley crumbles. “Don’t make me choose. I can’t make that choice.”</p><p> </p><p>“And that’s why am making the choice for us.” Aziraphale strokes a hand through Crowley’s hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Listen, I know this is stressful, but use some sense.” Andrew massages his temples. “I have friends with OSP in Columbus. We can station someone outside the apartment, or I can contact people at the complex’s security office if it‘ll make you more comfortable. But we need to involve my department in the trade off of the money. We’ll watch from a distance and only get involved if Aziraphale is in danger.”</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew’s colleagues and Brian will keep Adam and Warlock safe, Angel. Let the rest of us protect <em>you.</em>” Crowley watches Aziraphale intensely, his beautiful golden eyes pleading.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, okay.” Glancing about nervously, Aziraphale concedes. “So, what’s the plan?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Saturday, May22, 5:55AM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Sal taps their ID badge against the side of the digital time clock. They’ve done the same routine for over 29 years, and in just eight glorious months they can retire.</p><p> </p><p>Lifting their lunch bag and duty belt onto the shoulder high counter, they nods to the mid-30s something officer who immediately begins rummaging through their bag.</p><p> </p><p>“Morning Burgess.” Sal gives their coworker a wave, then steps through the metal detector. Leaning their elbows on the opposite counter, they wait to have their items returned.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning, Jennings. What’s got you picking up overtime?” Burgess places Sal’s bag and belt on the wooden surface.</p><p> </p><p>“Youngest is getting a divorce.” Sal wraps the belt around their waist, the plastic making an audible click as it fastens. “His wife’s a bitch, so it’ll more than likely get drawn out and be expensive. Gonna offer all the help I can.”</p><p> </p><p>Sal had earned their weekends off six years ago. Everything at ACF is earned based on seniority, so the weekends are a luxury granted to only “old timers”.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry to hear that.” Burgess grimaces. “You missed roll-call. They call you in late?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, woke me up about 20 till five. Think they forgot I got an hour drive.” Sal chuckles. “Hopefully nobody steps to close to me today. My shower is postponed till I get home.”</p><p> </p><p>Burgess smiles in response and waves them off. Sal trudges through the sallyport, retrieves their third shift predecessors chits from control and makes the long walk to the admin building. Passing through the enormous wooden door, they greet the officer at the desk, who clicks the button allowing them through the barred metal gate and onto the compound. Turning right they hurry down the sidewalk. Burton‘s been in the dorm all night and they’re certain he’s more than ready to head home.</p><p> </p><p>ACF isn’t like what you see in movies. The compound is open, 72 acres of land, much of which is outdoors. There are nine buildings for housing. A library, GED center and Ashland University College are all situated in the same building. There’s also a hospital, mental health facility, and a center for religious services.</p><p> </p><p>Inmates aren’t locked in cells, they live in the housing units, or dorms as they’re called by those who live and work here. The dorms are locked from 9:00 PM until 5:00 AM count clears, at which time the inmates can go to breakfast and then have free use of the yard and facilities until 10:45 AM. They return at this time and another count ensues. Once that count clears, they go to lunch and continue their day. The same is repeated at 4:00 PM count, then dinner, and they have their limited freedom of the area in which they currently live until night time. The doors lock down at 9:00 PM for final count and even then, once count clears, they are free to roam about the dorm all night.</p><p> </p><p>The only further exceptions to this freedom are for medical and mental health, which inmates are required to schedule appointments ahead of time. Unless of course what they’re facing is a medical emergency.</p><p> </p><p>It’s for these very reasons Ohio is the only prison system in the country not simply called the Department of Corrections but instead the Department of Rehabilitation and Correction. The higher ups believe in helping people learn to lead better lives upon release and so does Sal. Unfortunately they can’t always say the same for all their co-workers.</p><p> </p><p>Pushing open the door to E-1 (their dorm for the past 20 years) Sal hurries to relieve their third shift counterpart.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, they didn’t call me for overtime until late. Barely got here in time.“ Sal hands Burton his chits and walks around their large desk to the tiny office behind to place their food items in the small fridge.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright. Control told me.” Burton waits for Sal to finish in the fridge, then hands them two sets of keys, two cuffs and a set of cut down shears. He waves as he heads to the door. “Have a good day.”</p><p> </p><p>“You too.“ All equipment secured on their belt, Sal signs onto the computer and begins their logbook. It’s a day like so many others, the dorm is already at chow and on the yard. As normal it’s quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, throughout the day Sal has their regulars who stop them. The head Porter Inmate Stevens makes a point of letting them know he’s awake and on the job if anything needs done, Inmate Crawford stops for his daily roll of toilet paper and soap, Inmate Harold to catch up and have “girl talk” as she likes to call it.</p><p> </p><p>All of this and so much more occurs over the course of nearly 8 hours, some come to Sal’s desk, others stop them during their rounds. With only 10 minutes left to go, Inmate Stout waits patiently near their desk to be acknowledged.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s up?” Sal smiles politely. they knows exactly what’s up, but leaves it to him to tell them.</p><p> </p><p>“Got another letter.” He holds it up proudly.</p><p> </p><p>Stout’s name fits him. He’s a middle-aged, heavyset, balding man with a ring of reddish brown hair around the sides and back of his head and a long beard to match.</p><p> </p><p>“New pen pal?” They gives him a knowing stare. “Better not be that last one still. Know how upset you were when you found out she was married.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope, new one.” He smiles. “We’re just friends, this one. Nice guy, my cousin Hank knows him. Says the guy can get me a good job when I get out.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s great.” Sal’s mood brightens all the more. These are the stories They loves to hear. “How much longer until that happens?”</p><p> </p><p>They try not to keep track of any inmate’s crimes. This way they can only judge each on how they treat them. Unfortunately, that also means they never know how long their sentences are.</p><p> </p><p>“Three years.” He folds the paper and puts it away. “But I’m so qualified they promised to hold the job until I get out.” He bites his lip. “Speaking of jobs, I saw the Porter position for your desk area and office was open.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want it?” Sal’s tired of trying to wrangle other porters, with other jobs to help with this, and Stout’s never been a problem to officers. Condescending and sexist to other inmates and women he writes, but not officers.</p><p> </p><p>“I was hoping.” He tilts his head to the side. “Haven’t had a ticket in years.”</p><p> </p><p>“That shouldn’t be a problem.“ Sal nods, noticing their second shift relief approaching. “I’ll email Ms. Hatfield, see if she can get you reclassed.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>3:00PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Have to admit, this job has a lot more involved with it than I was expecting.” Amy flicks through the television stations. She’s half laying, half sitting with her legs pulled up on the couch and curled close to her body. “What do they want with Aziraphale?”</p><p> </p><p>“Some sort of a grudge against him and his husband.” Daniel shrugs. He sits upright, occupying the other end of the sofa and scrolling through his phone. “See, you didn’t have as much figured out as you thought. And to think you wanted to offer your daughter as ransom.”</p><p> </p><p>“That would’ve been a good idea if the money was all any of them wanted.” That’s all Amy wants, but she knows too much now to back out. She doesn’t give a shit if Aziraphale gets hurt, she just hoped this would be easier. “What do they plan on doing to him? And how many people are involved in this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not sure. On any of that really.” Daniel sets the phone aside and looks at her. “It’s best not to ask a bunch of questions. We have our contact, we do the job and get paid. Trust me, we do good on this, they’ll keep you employed, out of trouble and you’ll be rich.”</p><p> </p><p>Amy has been surprised to learn that Daniel is actually loaded. His lifestyle has earned him millions, but the downside is he can’t quit. Unemployment means death.</p><p> </p><p>“They have people stretched out everywhere too.” Daniel continues. “So don’t try backstabbing anyone or go getting a change of heart, cause they’ll know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just like they know Andrew is already planning to hijack the meet?” Amy is amazed and a bit concerned at how quickly the plan is going awry again.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but not to worry.” Daniel pats her foot. “We kill someone they love and they’ll get in line. Anyone good come to mind? We want someone close but not too close. That way we can work up to bigger fish if they continue to misbehave.”</p><p> </p><p>A spark of something sinister sparks in Amy and she turns to Daniel smiling for the first time in days. “Yeah, actually. Got someone perfect in mind.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Sunday, May 23, 2:00AM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale lay in bed staring up into the darkness. He has just over a day until the trade-off of money and nothing about the situation is setting well in his mind. He woke up from another dream an hour ago, one of the many over the past two nights. In some was Raven Sable, in others the Hilderbert kid and his mother, and in all of them Gabriel.</p><p> </p><p>The most recent had involved him waking to find Crowley gone. It ended in much the same way as every nightmare he had of Gabriel. Losing Crowley forever.</p><p> </p><p><em>Hello Sunshine</em>, the note had read. Aziraphale hates the moniker, only one person has ever called him that.</p><p> </p><p><em>But he’s dead</em>. Aziraphale reminds himself. Died years ago. The hospital staff had confirmed.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale waits to once again slip back into dreams. That’s the torture in all of this, he never recalls falling back to sleep. He can’t differentiate between the real and what’s in his mind right now. He worries he’s going a bit mad.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley moans and shifts next to him, the blond places a gentle hand on his shoulder. Aziraphale knows Crowley is suffering as well, plagued with his own nightmares, guilts and fears.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll get through this, my love.” Aziraphale whisper softly to the dark silhouette. “We always do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not this time.” Comes the oddly familiar voice from the foot of the bed. “Your mine sunshine. Always have been.”</p><p> </p><p>The bedroom light switches on causing Aziraphale to blink, attempting to adjust to the glare. Raven stands in the doorway, syringe in hand, Gabriel waits at the foot of the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t real. You’re dead.” Aziraphale positions himself protectively over Crowley’s unconscious body. He tries to rationalize his surroundings, prove to himself that all of this is false. <em>It has to be false</em>. “Raven wouldn’t help you get me back. He loves you.”</p><p> </p><p>“He does.” Gabriel sneers. “He also does what he’s told to make me happy. Unlike some people.”</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel rounds the bed in an unreal flash of movement, causing Aziraphale to scurry backwards, slamming his body against the headboard.</p><p> </p><p>“Time to stop playing house, Aziraphale.” Violet eyes gouge into his soul. “You’re going back where you belong.”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Aziraphale screams as Gabriel‘s hand grips his arms dragging him away. He glances to Raven, who is somehow standing right beside the bed, needle inches from Crowley‘s neck. “Don’t hurt him!”</p><p> </p><p>“Too late.” Raven smirks, showing the empty barrel of the syringe. “Prince Charming’s already dead.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale wakes once again, throwing himself quickly out of bed. <em>Just a nightmare. Just another nightmare.</em></p><p> </p><p>Then he notices, in horror, Crowley side of the bed is empty. Glancing at the digital clock it reads 2:03 AM. <em>Why would Anthony be out of bed at this time of the night?</em></p><p> </p><p>“Anthony!” He shouts in a panic. Running from the room, he continues to call for his husband. “Darling! Please!”</p><p> </p><p>As Aziraphale stumbles over the step into the living room, Crowley rushes from the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“Angel! What’s wrong?! What happened?” He meets Aziraphale in the center of the living room, collecting the blond in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“They hurt you.” He sobs incoherently against Crowley’s bare shoulder. “They took you for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no Dove.” Crowley coos softly. “I couldn’t sleep, so I got up to check the doors and windows and get a drink of water.” He kisses Aziraphale’s temple, rubbing his hands up and down his Angel’s back. “I’m fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>No, it’s not. Aziraphale is sobbing too hard to speak the words aloud. He clings to Crowley, fearing that at any moment he could have his husband ripped away. Things may never be fine again</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Whatever It Takes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things get tense and emotions show.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is an Imagine Dragons song. If you’re a Marvel fan you’ll know phase 5 hasn’t happened yet, hell we’re just entering phase 4 so the Adam Warlock conversation is just my best guesstimation lol. This fic takes place in a future time from now.<br/>Hope you enjoy 💚</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>6:00PM, Columbus, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It is the first official weekend of Warlock’s adult life and everything is topsy-turvy. Hell, the past four days have been a bit curious.</p><p> </p><p>Harry and Amy’s impending divorce is a shock to everyone. They had always seemed to have the perfect family, but then Amy had revealed herself to be a liar and a cheat. <em>Guess not everybody can be like my Dad and Pops.</em></p><p> </p><p>Pepper had been the biggest blow. Warlock and Brian love her like a sister. The three of them and Adam had grown up together, with dreams of his and Brian‘s children being best friends and cousins with Adam and Pepper’s.</p><p> </p><p>Two nights prior, Warlock had called Wensleydale to see how Pepper was doing, seeing as how he is the only one of the Them she is currently communicating with. Wensleydale explained that she’s not mad, she’s just hurting and when she knows her presence won’t be painful to Adam any longer, she’ll be back around.</p><p> </p><p>Warlock, same as Brian and Adam, isn’t upset with her, but Warlock wishes she would give Adam a chance to plead his case. Pepper seems to not fully understand how much his brother loves her.</p><p> </p><p>It was less than two hours after his phone call with Wensleydale, that there was a knock on their apartment door. Warlock and Adam stayed where they were, seated on opposite sides of the sofa, and Brian rose from his place on the center cushion to greet their visitor. Minutes later a police officer was in their living room, briefing them on a very serious and terrifying situation.</p><p> </p><p>Now, here they are two days later, making every attempt possible to ignore the elephant in the room. Brian is propped up, his back on the arm of the sofa, with Warlock snuggled up against him. Adam sets crisscross on the floor, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. The three young men are facing the large flat screen, on which <strong>Thor The Dark World</strong> plays.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this all you guys do?” The officer assigned to them speaks from where she paces at the edge of the room. Her name is Officer McBriar and she knows nothing about superhero movies.</p><p> </p><p>“This is a classic.” Adam twists to face her. “Dad got us started on Marvel movies and comics when we were little. He’s a big fan.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s how we got our names, actually.” Warlock speaks, eyes never leaving the television.</p><p> </p><p>“He named you after superheroes?” McBriar smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“One superhero.” Brian chimes in, the rumble of his voice against Warlock’s side is comforting.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I got his first name.” Adam raises his hand briefly before turning back to look at the screen.</p><p> </p><p>“And I got his surname.” Warlock tilts his head to look at Brian.</p><p> </p><p>“If they’d been triplets, their third brother would have probably been Magus.” Brian smirks, pressing a kiss to Warlock’s head.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” McBriar moves closer to take a seat on the floor beside Adam.</p><p> </p><p>“Magus is a future incarnation of Adam Warlock. He takes the soul gem from himself, before killing his future counterpart, making him the first to possess a stone in the comics.” Warlock loves explaining the stuff to new people. The best thing about being in a fandom is inclusion and getting other people interested. Gatekeepers have always been an anomaly to him. “He really should’ve been in the first 10 years of the MCU movies since he’s a major player in the Infinity War Saga comics. But Marvel Studios tweaked the storyline for the movies.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Adam turns to the pretty dark haired officer beside him. “They didn’t bring him in until Phase 5, but they mention him in the end credit scene of <strong>Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2.</strong></p><p> </p><p>“These stories are how we handle stressors in our lives.” Brian says, hugging Warlock closer. “It takes our minds off of things.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m glad I get to share this with you.” McBriar smiles again, as Adam places the bowl of popcorn between himself and her.</p><p> </p><p>Over the next few hours, the young men educate the young woman on how the movies are all connected, that it’s one long story line carried over multiple films. They also tell her about Warlock and Brian’s plans to someday create comics and graphic novels of their own.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually the time grows late and they excuse themselves for bed.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re welcome to anything we have to eat or drink or any of our movies or books while on watch.” Brian offers as Warlock helps him up from the sofa.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” She nods, positioning herself by the window overlooking the street below.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I ask you something?” Warlock can’t shake the dread in the pit of the stomach. “Are my Dad and Pops going to be OK?”</p><p> </p><p>McBriar purses her lips. “Has anyone told you about the ransom note?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Warlock squeezes Brian‘s hand for comfort. “They want the money and Pops.”</p><p> </p><p>“Our goal is to keep them from getting either, but there are no guarantees.” She frowns, her pale eyes wide.</p><p> </p><p>“Your Dad won’t let them have your Pops. He’d die before that could happen.” Brian says gently, he rests his free hand on the base of Warlock’s back.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I know.” Warlock turns a loving glance to Brian. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>6:00PM, Oak Hill, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, we’re going out.” Greg slaps his brother on the foot as he walks past the edge of the sofa.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Harry kicks the appendage upward, from his reclined position.</p><p> </p><p>“Because you need to move.” Greg steps behind the piece of furniture and shakes it violently. “You need to shower, shave, have some food and maybe a beer.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not really feeling up to going out.” Harry grabs an empty pop can from the coffee table, chucking it at his brother. “And stop doing that to my couch. You’re going to tear it up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your crusty ass is going to meld into and become one with the couch if you don’t get up and move.” Greg yanks away the crocheted throw their mother had made that Harry is currently burrowed under.</p><p> </p><p>“No place around here’s selling beer on a Sunday night anyway.” Harry scrambles forward, frantically grabbing for the throw.</p><p> </p><p>“Food then.” Greg spins, balling the blanket in his arms and walks quickly from the living room and down the hallway to his brother’s bedroom. Tossing the throw onto the bed, Greg rummages through the closet for a shirt and trousers, then the dresser for underwear. Minutes later he returns to the living room and drops the clothing onto his still sulking sibling’s chest. “Take a shower, we’re going out to Dakota’s. My treat.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>7:30PM Jackson, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Emma Harris stands beside the front entrance of Dakota’s Steakhouse. Every passing moment making her regret even more agreeing to this date.</p><p> </p><p>Her ex, Sean, had called earlier that day, begging her for yet and another chance. She should’ve told him no, learned from her previous mistakes, but she’s lonely and Sean seems to be the only person ever interested in her. Even if his interest is often fleeting.</p><p> </p><p>Their on again, off again relationship has consisted of Sean showering her with attention and affection, until he finds someone more attractive. Emma is waif thin, having suffered from an eating disorder since she was 13, and her depression doesn’t help her any. She’s gained some weight in the past, but that was during times of extreme happiness.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t not eat because she hates her body, she hates her body because she has trouble eating. When she’s anxious, depressed, angry or any emotion besides happy or content, she feels like there’s broken glass in her stomach. To eat anything while in that state is excruciatingly painful.</p><p> </p><p>It started in junior high when her peers had taken it upon themselves to outcast her. No rhyme or reason, just a teenage herd mentality of “that one’s not acceptable”. By 15 a doctor diagnosed her as borderline anorexic, and rather than try to help Emma, her image-conscious mother had berated her all the more for (as Rachel Harris had so eloquently put it) being an “attention whore”.</p><p> </p><p>Sean had promised to meet her 25 minutes ago. His place of work is directly across the street from the restaurant and she can easily see the doors to the urgent care from where she stands.</p><p> </p><p>He works reception, and the medical facility had closed 30 minutes ago. A well learned dread slithers down her spine, and Emma‘s fears are confirmed when she sees Sean exit the clinic’s front door, arm draped around the shoulder of a busty woman in scrubs.</p><p> </p><p>She sucks in a breath and closes her eyes against the unwelcome sight. “Definitely don’t feel like eating now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Emma?” The voice is familiar. She opens her eyes and turns to see Harry and Greg Weston exiting a Dodge Caravan. Harry looks tired and pale, Greg is, as always, tan and vibrant. Harry’s blue eyes light up at seeing her. “You just getting here, or are you leaving?”</p><p> </p><p>“Both actually.” She can feel her skin heating in embarrassment as she lifts her hand and points to the parking lot across the street and a couple sucking face beside a car. “I was supposed to be meeting Sean.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry and Greg look to where she’s gesturing. Harry’s jaw strains, his nostrils flare. “Dickweed.”</p><p> </p><p>Emma snorts. She’s never heard Harry Weston cuss. “Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you come in and eat with us?” Greg turns back to face her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you’re so rarely come to visit your brother, I wouldn’t want to put a damper your time together.” She wants to so badly. She’s sick of being alone outside of her work and, as was welcomingly discovered at the graduation party, she’s able to stomach food while around Harry. There’s something comforting about the man that’s hard to find in people.</p><p> </p><p>“You wouldn’t be putting a damper on anything.” Harry’s face softens. “You’re a joy to be around.”</p><p> </p><p>Just six words but they have the strength to knock the wind from Emma’s lungs in the most wonderful way possible. Taking a deep breath she steadies herself, a smile breaks across her face. “Good, because I’m actually really hungry.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Monday, May 24 8:13AM</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Sunlight warms the bedroom as it streams in through the unshielded window. Crowley isn’t ready to open his eyes just yet. When he does he’ll have to face the day ahead, and he’s not prepared to do so.</p><p> </p><p>They need to go to the bank soon and he isn’t entirely sure how easy it will be to withdraw the amount of money the ransom requires. Local banks don’t typically keep sums as large as he will be requesting on hand. It’s very likely going to be a drawn out process to get it done.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley knows he should get up and get started, but instead he rolls onto his right side and slowly opens his eyes. Aziraphale lays on his left side facing him, brow drawn down, features tight even in his sleep. Crowley wonders if his Angel is suffering another nightmare and if would it be crueler to let him rest or wake him into the reality of today?</p><p> </p><p>Their faces are so close together, the tip of Crowley’s nose brushes the skin of Aziraphale’s. The red head lifts his left hand to lay it in blond’s soft curls, his thumb gently stroking across the ragged line of the old scar.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you.” Crowley’s voice catches, a sob clogging the back of his throat. “God, Angel, I don’t want you to have to do this.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes squeeze tighter, his face clenching in pure agony as he blows out a puff of air. He raises his right hand placing it on top of Crowley’s as tears stream from under his firmly shut eyes. “I love you too, Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>Blue eyes flutter open and Crowley feels something in him break. His own tears flooding forth, he’s unable to stop the sob shaking his body. <em>Don’t let this be the last time. Our last morning. Please God, I may not be what you want, but he is. Protect him please, don’t let them take him away.</em></p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s hand moves from where it rests atop Crowley’s and weaves itself into shoulder length hair. Their lips press together, hard and possessive, in a desperate frenzy.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale breaks the kiss, frantically stripping away his clothing. Crowley follows suit and soon he’s on his back. Aziraphale is on top of him, their bare dicks, frotting hard and desperately together, as his Angel’s tongue laps hungrily in Crowley’s mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony.” Aziraphale moans, breaking the kiss and burying his face in the cool skin of his husband’s slender neck. He has his hands on each side of Crowley’s head, handfuls of red hair in each fist. “My darling, my love.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aziraphale.” The word moves through Crowley’s lips huskily, his nails pinching into soft skin. “I need you in me Angel. Please.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Please don’t let this be the last time. I won’t survive it. I need you.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I need you.” Crowley reaches out, unseeing fingers fumbling at the dresser beside the bed.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale pushes himself up just enough to reach for the bottle in the top drawer, but not enough to completely sever their contact.</p><p> </p><p>Plastic tube in hand, Aziraphale slicks his fingers, and reaches between the two of them. Crowley cups his hand over the back of his Angel’s head, guiding him into another hungry kiss as Aziraphale massages Crowley’s opening.</p><p> </p><p>“Bite me Angel.” Crowley begs against soft pink lips. “Don’t just bruise me. I want a permanent mark, proof of how much you love me, want me.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s crying. They both are. Crowley can taste the salt on his lips from it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Do you taste it too? The way we’re mixing together? Same tears, same body, same soul.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley gasps as a thick finger breaks his entrance and teeth bruise the skins of his shoulder. “Harder Dove. Make me bleed.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Let me bleed for you. Die for you. Let me take your place. Drained me out, bleed me clean. Siphon the life from my veins. I’ll do it for you. Why can’t I do this for you?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you, Anthony.” Aziraphale lifts his head to look into his lover’s face. His eyes are a deeper blue than normal, they always are when he cries, as if the hint of green spills out with his tears.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t hurt me.” Crowley begs, the desperation showing in his voice. “Please, Angel. Scar me, mark me as yours, I need it I need you.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Show me you were here. Leave a reminder. In case......Oh fucking Christ, don’t disappear from my life!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley sobs as a second finger enters. His body quakes with a mixture of grief and ecstasy.</p><p> </p><p>“My darling.” Aziraphale whispers against his jaw. “My strong, sweet, Anthony. I will not leave you. I’ll always be with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Swear it.” Crowley turns his face towards his Angel’s ear. “Can you swear it, Aziraphale? That I’ll never lose you. Never live a day on this earth without you?”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale whimpers, his body presses more tightly to Crowley’s. A third digit joins the others, spreading and twisting, opening him wide. They rub against the red-heads prostate at the same moment Aziraphale’s teeth break the freckled skin of Crowley’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Angel!” Crowley screams. “Fuck Angel!”</p><p> </p><p>And the Aziraphale’s mouth is on his again, the taste of metal and salt on his lips. His tongue licks at Crowley’s and the Angel’s fingers leave him and are soon replaced by Aziraphale’s solid dick</p><p> </p><p>“You feel so good.” Crowley moans, Aziraphale’s face inches above his own, allowing Crowley to gaze into shimmering blue eyes. “I won’t let you go. I’ll face down death himself to keep you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony.” There is so much love in those glistening blue pools.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley splays one hand across Aziraphale’s back holding him close, the other lifts to cup his husband’s face. “Are you close, Dove?”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale closes his eyes. Turning his face to kiss Crowley’s palm he nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Let go. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” Crowley is so close himself. Aziraphale hits his sweet spot with each stroke, his thick stomach creating the perfect amount of friction on Crowley’s dripping member.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fill me. Pour yourself into me. Let your cells, your DNA, dissolve into the inner workings of my body. Leave yourself inside me, my soul, my heart. Let me carry you always. You’re mine, mine, mine....</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Mine!” Crowley calls out, as the heat of Aziraphale’s seed fills him and his Angel falls forward onto him. Crowley’s own spend covering their bodies, pasting them together.</p><p> </p><p>“Mine, you’re mine.” Crowley murmurs into Aziraphale’s curls. “I won’t let anyone take you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Anthony.” Aziraphale cries onto Crowley’s unmarked shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>They cling together, wet and sticky with sweat and drying come.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be sorry.” Crowley runs a soothing hand along Aziraphale’s spine. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”</p><p> </p><p><em>But the fucker who’s doing this does.</em> Crowley is more than ready to bring the wrath of Hell upon anyone and everyone who dares to even think of touching his Angel.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>9:30AM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley holds the door for Aziraphale as the couple exit the bank. The manager had informed them that their total amount asked for, should be available to by the end of the business day. Aziraphale prays she is correct.</p><p> </p><p>“I do wish they had given me a set time for the meet.” Aziraphale frets with his hands. “I’m already nervous enough without the fear of being late. Or worse, standing behind a deserted elementary school for hours in the dark.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Crowley takes one of the fluttering hands in his lifting it to his lips. “Andrew said 7:00PM should be good, that’s a little less than 72 hours from when you received the note.”</p><p> </p><p>“Speaking of Andrew.” Aziraphale points to the cruiser pulling into the bank lot.</p><p> </p><p>Stopping alongside the couple, the Charger’s driver side window lowers. “How you both fairing?”</p><p> </p><p>“As well as can be expected.” Crowley places his hands on the door. He nods in greeting to Travis in the passenger seat, who promptly returns the gesture.</p><p> </p><p>“So we checked into the names you gave us.” Andrew taps on the keyboard of the laptop mounted to his center consul. “As you know, Gabriel is dead and Raven is still incarcerated.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re aware.” Aziraphale steps beside Crowley. Also leaning down to better talk, he places a hand on his husband’s back. “And the other names?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well since you don’t know the names of Gabriel’s other associates in Miami, it makes it difficult to look into them.” Andrew scratches his head. “You sure you can’t remember the family he represented? The one supplying him with the money?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, about that, I think it was Gold. I recall a short balding man, with flashy dental work visiting, but his first name eludes me.” A tension headache is beginning to form at the base of Aziraphale’s neck. “It was something long and exotic.” Shrugging. “Well, like mine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you remember the first initial?” Travis leans forward to better see them.</p><p> </p><p>“I believe it was an S.” Aziraphale’s hand grasps the base of his own neck to massage the tensing muscles.</p><p> </p><p>“We can work with that.” Andrew types something into the computer and it seems to come alive with movement.</p><p> </p><p>“What about the others?” Crowley replaces Aziraphale’s hand with his own, in hopes of easing his Angel’s pain.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I gotta admit I’m a bit upset about this. Seems the sheriff’s office messed up some paperwork, and lost track of Chalky after they were admitted into the OR.” Andrew lays his head against the back of his seat. “And even worse, it seems that name is an alias, it’s not what they go by legally, so there’s no way to track them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, oh dear.” Aziraphale grabs the side of Crowley’s t-shirt. “Has anyone informed Beez?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, we’re trying to keep this quiet until after tonight.” Andrew sighs, looking at the couple apologetically.</p><p> </p><p>“The fact that Chalky’s still loose somewhere seems like information they should know.” Crowley’s voice contains a hint of irritability.</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow.” Andrew nods. “First thing tomorrow, after all this is over and Aziraphale’s safe. It’s been almost 2 decades that they’ve been running loose and off the radar.” The officer continues pointedly. “One more day really won’t make that much of a difference to Beez. But it could to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” Aziraphale shakes his head feeling dejected, tired and in so much pain. God all of this is making his pain so much worse. “And Charity and Fenrir Hilderbert?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew grimaces, hissing through his teeth. “So, you know how you told me Charity spoke to ya’ll like she was a decent person, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure if you should trust her?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Crowley drops his hand from Aziraphale’s neck and shoulders to wrap his arm around his husband’s waist. “She was full of shit, wasn’t she?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Andrew audibly swallows, his Adams apple bobbing at the effort. “She did exactly what she said, put Fenrir in therapy. Made it so that all his accounts were locked until she either passed or unlocked them herself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then why do you have that expression on your face?” Aziraphale winds his arm around Crowley in turn.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, eight months ago, Fenrir Hilderbert convinced his counselors and his mother that he was a reformed man.” Andrew reaches up to the downed window placing his hand on top of his cousin’s. “And two months ago police found Charity Hilderbert’s body in her bed. She had been stabbed multiple times with a kitchen knife.” Andrews brown eyes search their faces with heartbreaking empathy. “Fenrir is nowhere to be found.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Do or Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale shows with the ransom.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is a Thirty Seconds to Mars song. Hope you enjoy ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>12:00PM, ACF</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“C.O. J!” Sal looks up from their computer. Before them stands inmate Snyder, out of breath, bent forward, hands on his knees and laughing hysterically.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything okay, Snyder?“ Sal watches him warily, fighting the smile tugging at their mouth. It’s extremely unlikely this is anything serious, but it’s best to be cautious.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.“ He gasps the words between fits of silent laughter. “Dude’s on the shitter, and someone stole his toilet paper. Poor bastards begging to be saved.”</p><p> </p><p>Sal allows the smile to spread over their face before pushing their chair back and walking into their office to retrieve a new roll from the storage closet. Handing the much needed toiletry to Snyder, they lowers their voice for a mock dramatic affect. “Go forth and be the hero you were always meant to be.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” Snyder breaks into another fit of giggles before running off to save the day.</p><p> </p><p>“Reporting for duty C.O. Jennings.” Stout steps to the desk, watching Snyder with confused curiosity. “What was that about?”</p><p> </p><p>“A truly shitty predicament.” Sal motions for him to step around the desk. “But Snyder is up to face the challenge.”</p><p> </p><p>“No offense but you’re so weird.“ Stout shakes his head</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” They shrug. “Makes me stand out in a crowd.”</p><p> </p><p>“Something like that.” He says, a touch derisively.</p><p> </p><p>Sal ignores it. Stout has never been a troublesome inmate, he’s polite and like most of the others shares tidbits of his life with the officer in charge. But they also know him to be a bit condescending and an elitist at times. It hits him in moods.</p><p> </p><p>The way he talks about his former wife sometimes leads Sal to wonder about his crime, but they never ask. He definitely seems the kind they want to focus more time on working with, to tweak his perception of women and underprivileged groups before his release.</p><p> </p><p>Sal moves from their chair and leads him into their small back area.</p><p> </p><p>“So I’ll need you to change the garbage liners in my trash cans twice a shift.” They begin their speech on his new job duties. “Disinfect my desk and office area, sweep and mop as well once a shift.” Sal gestures to the appliances. “The microwave just needs wiped out prior to the end of my shift, and the refrigerator cleaned once a week.”</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn’t seem like too much work.” Stout tips his head to the side. “Lot easier than eight hours in the chow hall.”</p><p> </p><p>“I hope so.” Sal pushes away from the door frame and moves back to their seat. “Should take less than an hour, and I had Ms. Hatfield put you in the system as a porter 4, so the pay will be double the chow hall pay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” He moves to once again stand outside the boundaries of their work area. “So which day do you want me cleaning out the fridge?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wednesdays seem to be the best.” Sal leans back in the seat, placing their hands on their head. “On the days I work you can go back and do your job even if I’m away from the desk. But if it’s my day off, make sure to let the relief officer know what you’re doing before you step behind a desk.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s easy enough. You’re almost always here.” Stout pats the metal chemical box. “Would you care to unlock this so I can get my first day started?”</p><p> </p><p>With a pleased smile, Sal does as they’re bid.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>2:00PM, Oak Hill, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Beez lounges in their office chair, staring at their work computer. They can’t shake the sinking feeling that something isn’t right. Crowley called saying he won’t be in to work and isn’t sure when he’ll be back. That in itself isn’t super uncommon, but the fact that he wouldn’t give them an explanation is.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale have never kept secrets from them, well except for that one time when they went to Tennessee for their anniversary. After that weekend they never again travelled too far from home.</p><p> </p><p>And the worst of it is when they had called their nephews to check in, Warlock and Adam had been just as ambiguous.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s eating at me too.” Dagon‘s words break them from their reverie. “Thinking we need to call Anathema.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thinking you’re right.” Beez points to Crowley’s work chair. “Grab that seat and slide over here beside me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sure about that?” Dagon grins, already walking in the direction of the indicated seat. “I smell like car fluids and paint.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure. I need you near me.” Beez rests their elbows on the table, their face in their hands.</p><p> </p><p>Dagon settles herself in the seat. Kicking off with her feet, she vaults the 5 feet to Beez, the back of her chair crashing hard enough to jar the tiny, dark haired person. It gains her a laugh and a playful slap on the arm.</p><p> </p><p>“You are beyond ridiculous.” Beez spins Dagon so that she is facing them.</p><p> </p><p>“And you love me for it.” Dagon wriggles on her perch, a cheeky smile on her face.</p><p> </p><p>“That and many other reasons.” They take her hand and lay their head against Dagon’s shoulder. “Are you OK? I know you always try to stay so positive, but I’m worried, so you must be too. I mean, Crowley actually is your blood.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am.” Dagon brushes black hair from Beez’s eyes and pushes it behind their ear. “But I’ve never suffered the things you have with them.” She cups her free hand over the one she already holds. “You think it’s something like that again?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” They lift their head. “Well at least 99% sure. This is just like that trip they took to Tennessee that they won’t talk about. They act like nothing happened, but when I mentioned it to Zira, he gets all flighty. They hide a lot of their suffering from everyone if they don’t have to share it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anathema was onto something that last weekend they went off for their anniversary.” Dagon presses a quick kiss to Beez’s forehead causing the deep lines to relax. “I’m gonna give her a call and see when she’s available.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>5:00PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Wensleydale and Pepper are seated across from one another at a small table nestled between the bookshelves of the Oak Hill Library. They’ve each been reading quietly for the past hour. She’s rarely been out of the house, not feeling like talking in length about her current situation. So, when Wensleydale offered the library it seemed a good idea. She couldn’t see him trying to nag her too much about her life decisions in a place meant for silence.</p><p> </p><p>She soon finds out she is wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“I told Warlock.” Wensleydale whispers, keeping his face hidden behind <strong><em>The Works of Edgar Allan Poe.</em></strong></p><p> </p><p>“Told him what?” Pepper is only half paying attention to the boy across from her, fully engrossed in a fantasy novel.</p><p> </p><p>Wensleydale takes a deep breath. “Told Warlock why you broke up with Adam.”</p><p> </p><p>She puts her book onto the smooth wooden surface. Wensleydale’s shoulders are pulled high, his head dipping lower behind the book. He reminds her of a turtle trying to hide in it’s shell.</p><p> </p><p>“Wondered how long it’d take you to do it.” She slumps forward. When he finally braves lowering the book she gives him a sad half smile. “Smart how you didn’t break your promise to not tell Adam, but still got the information to him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” Wensleydale’s left eyebrow lifts, he lays his own book on the table. “You’re not mad at me?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Adam deserves to know why.” Pepper places her thumbnail between her teeth, chewing at it absentmindedly. “But I knew if I was the one to tell him, he begged for me back and I’d cave.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” Wensleydale has never been one for romantic love, not something he personally wants. But Pepper also knows it’s important to him that his friends are happy and together and that it probably doesn’t make sense to him why one of them is purposely putting herself through such pain.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve already explained it until I’m blue in the face.” Pepper leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you don’t understand yet, you’re just not gon-...”</p><p> </p><p>She catches a few key words of someone else’s conversation and stops. Her eyes flick up to meet his and she places her index finger over her mouth. Leaning back just a bit further in her chair, she tilts her head to listen. Wensleydale seems to also notice the voices just on the other side of the large shelf to his right. Pepper recognizes them as belonging to Anathema, Dagon and Beez.</p><p> </p><p>“I said to meet me after work, at seven.” Anathema sounds just beyond exasperated. “I can’t be doing a tarot reading at work, if the town Council heard, they’d have me removed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, something is happening soon.” Beez keeps their voice low, their words escaping at a faster rate than usual. “When I stopped to make the shop’s closing deposit, Lou Davis said Crowley was in only half hour earlier, withdrawing all but $200,000 of their money.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Dagon states much louder than is appropriate for her surroundings. “And that Aziraphale was clinging to Anthony’s arm looking around nervously, like a wild cat.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shhhhh.” Anathema shushes. “Did you ask Aziraphale or Crowley about all of this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, considering Crowley won’t even tell me why he’s not coming into work, or when he’ll be back.” Beez’s voice has taken on that low buzz that Pepper has always found mildly terrifying. “I doubt he’ll tell me why him and Zira just withdrew practically their entire fortune.”</p><p> </p><p>“We have to go.” Pepper grabs Wensleydale’s hand and drags him around the table. “Now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where we going?” He yelps. She squeezes his fingers much too hard, as she pulls him through the buildings back entrance and across the parking lot to her car.</p><p> </p><p>“Just get in and buckle up.” Pepper removes her cell phone from her jeans pocket and taps on an all too familiar contact. After three rings she hears a voice she’s missed more than she cares to admit</p><p> </p><p>“Pepper?” Adam sounds so hopeful, and it breaks her heart. “I’m so glad you called, are you wanting to talk?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but not about what you think.” Pepper lays her head against the roof of her car. “What’s going on with your parents? And are you guys okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Adam lies. She can always tell when he lies, because he doesn’t do it often and he’s terrible at it when he does.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you do. They withdrew almost all their money from the bank.” She means to sound angry but instead her fear bleeds through. “Heard Beez and Dagon telling Anathema.”</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew told all of us not to be saying anything.” Adam huffs, then goes quiet, obviously realizing too late how much he let slip.</p><p> </p><p>“Your Dad and Pops didn’t tell them.” The other end of the line has gone so silent, Pepper glances at her phone screen to make sure he hasn’t hung up. Assured that he is still there, she moves the phone back to her ear. “The bank manager spilled the beans when Beez made their closing deposit.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll tell you all about this when I can. I’m safe right now, I’ll keep in touch in case any of that changes.” There’s an audible shaking breath. “Keep your distance from all of us Pepper until I let you know different.”</p><p> </p><p>“Adam.” Her voice hitches, tears slip unrestrained across her face. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be beautiful.” It’s obvious by the way his breathing shudders that Adam is in tears as well. “I’ll wait for you, until I die or you marry someone else, whichever comes first. Until one of those things happen, I’ll be here when you want me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t make that promise.” She turns leaning her back against the car. “You don’t know how you’ll feel in a few months.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I do.” Adam clears his throat. “I gotta get off here now Pep. Please do as I ask and trust me. Promise me you’ll stay away until I call you. I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>“All right, OK. I promise.” The phone beeps indicating Adam has hung up. Pepper stares at her wallpaper, a photo of her and Adam last summer at the local pool. His arm around her waist, kissing her cheek as she, giggling, took the selfie. “I love you too.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>7:00PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“I think she likes him.” Greg nudges his brother. They sit in their mother’s living room, Harry on one end of the sofa, Greg in the center and Airi on the other end. Jake is at work and Sal relaxes across the room on the loveseat, as Phillip and Mabel play in what once was Harry’s room. The coffee table between them contains two open pizza boxes and multiple cans of soda.</p><p> </p><p>“Way too early to be thinking about any of that.” Harry punches Greg lightly on the arm in return. He is, of course, referring to Emma who had not only had dinner with them Sunday night, but had come back to Harry’s home to play board games. It has been nearly midnight when she left to go home. “Haven’t even met with the lawyer yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have an appointment scheduled?” Airi leans to look around Greg.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Harry reaches for a slice of pizza. “Wednesday morning at 9:00AM.”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you spoken to Amy?” Sal pulls their legs up underneath themself. “Is she still agreeing to a dissolution?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Harry takes a bite, chewing it thoroughly before continuing. “She’s gonna meet me at ten til nine and we’re gonna walk in together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just hoping she doesn’t back out on you.” Sal hands him a napkin in order to save their furniture from greasy hands. “Dissolutions are expensive, but divorces are ungodly. You do know if you ever need any money, I’ll help as much as I can?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I know.” Harry begins but is interrupted by frantic knocking on the home’s door.</p><p> </p><p>Sal pulls their legs out from underneath themself and gets their feet on the floor. They pad in their socks to the front window and move the curtain aside to see who’s knocking. Throwing a concerned glance to their sons and daughter-in-law, Sal rushes to greet their visitors. “It’s Beez and Dagon and they look to be in a state.”</p><p> </p><p>Sal barely gets the door open before Dagon’s words fly out in a rush. “We need to get out to Anthony and Aziraphale’s.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Why? What’s wrong?” Sal steps back, rattled by the outburst. Looking behind them Harry, Greg and Airi are on their feet.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re not completely sure.” Beez takes Sal’s hand and leads them out the door. In their driveway they notices Bri and Alexis in Bri’s car parked behind Beez. “Just come on, we’ll explain on the way.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>9:20PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale has been standing behind the elementary school, tucked between the dumpster and the service entrance, well over two hours now. It had grown dark a half hour prior, and with no lights behind the building, he worries if Crowley, Andrew and Travis still have a visual.</p><p> </p><p>On the other side of the school’s back lot, is an old gravel road and beyond that dense forest which goes back for miles. Travis hunts the area and had brought Andrew and Crowley in 3 miles down the road along a path. This way they wouldn’t be seen entering the woods near where they currently watch Aziraphale.</p><p> </p><p>The most frightening thing is the lack of light. The school has no use for streetlights, being a bit out in the country and all extracurriculars are held at the high school. The town Council decided long ago, if the illumination isn’t needed, why waste the energy costs.</p><p> </p><p>Another unnerving thing about the whole situation, at least for Crowley, is that to keep a low profile, none of the rest of the Jackson County OSP are involved in tonight’s expedition. Yes, it makes sense, larger police presence would be much too noticeable, but try telling that to an overly anxious, overly protective spouse.</p><p> </p><p>A loud crash causes Aziraphale jump, his back crashing hard into the brick wall of the schoolhouse, while screaming in a rather undignified manner. Five seconds later his phone buzzes, lifting the screen Aziraphale reads the text.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Crowley:</strong> <em>You okay Angel?</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Aziraphale:</strong> <em>Yes.</em></p><p> </p><p>He realizes the crashing sound was the dumpster lid falling, as a raccoon scurries away. The creature must’ve knocked aside the metal bar propping the lid up, as it exited the receptacle.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Crowley:</strong> <em>You screamed. I’m coming down there.</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Aziraphale:</strong> <em>Will you please stop your nonsense? I was startled by a raccoon. Do you really think that if I was being murdered or kidnapped, I would have the wherewithal to continue texting with you coherently?</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Crowley:</strong> <em>I would argue that I could be texting with the murderer/kidnapper, but then I think “nope, my husband is the only person I know to use wherewithal in a sentence.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale giggles. Leave it to Crowley to lighten his mood when the poor darling is terrified.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Aziraphale:</strong> <em>I love you Anthony. Now stop texting me.</em></p><p> </p><p>He starts to slide the device into his back pocket when it once again buzzes.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop worrying so much, you beautiful, silly man.” Aziraphale sighs, once again raising the screen to where he can see it.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Unknown Number:</strong> <em>Now that you’re done chatting with Anthony, we need to talk. Don’t alert your husband, or the officers with him and answer my call.</em></p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale nearly drops the phone as it begins to vibrate in his hand. He touches the green button to answer and places it to his ear. “H-hello?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been permitted to do what you want, when you want for too long.” The voice is deep but somewhat mechanical. Aziraphale finds it unnerving as he’s reminded of a horror movie series from the 90’s that Crowley has made him watch on more than one occasion. Except this voice sounds more like a computer and less like a man. “It’s made you forget how to follow orders. Seems you’re no longer worth the effort to fix.”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I don’t know what you mean.” His free hand grabs the cloth on the side of his shirt, bawling it in his fist. He feels like he can’t breathe, but he needs to breathe. Focusing on the texture of the fabric, he concentrates on speaking. “I’m here alone, with the cash in hand.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you?” It’s difficult to read inflection in the artificial tone. “Because my associate has their sights on the back of a pretty redhead and two cops flanking him.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean by sights?” Aziraphale is hoping it’s merely a watchful eye. Deep down he knows it’s not.</p><p> </p><p>“You know exactly what I mean.” They continue. “You’ve fucked up Aziraphale, and now someone is going to pay.”</p><p> </p><p>“No! No please I’m sorry. Don’t hurt him I beg you. I’ll do whatever you ask of me.” Aziraphale heaves. <em>Not Anthony. Please God don’t let them hurt my husband.</em></p><p> </p><p>“That is, unless you decide to actually follow my orders from this moment on.” The voice continues. “Place the money beside the dumpster and leave. Tell your husband and his cousin that my offer has changed. That I only want the money and to be left to go on my way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that all you want?” Aziraphale prays this is it. Just hand over the money and live happily ever after. <em>Please let it be that simple.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Of course pet.” The voice chuckles resulting in a strange metallic ping.</p><p> </p><p>“And you won’t hurt anyone?” Aziraphale allows himself a bit of hope.</p><p> </p><p>“Not a soul. You can trust me sunshine.” Aziraphale’s insides twist at the person’s choice of words. “Would I lie to you?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Rather Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title of this chapter is a Barns Courtney song.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>5 Minutes Earlier</strong>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>Aziraphale:</strong> <em>I love you Anthony. Now stop texting me.</em></p><p> </p><p>Crowley growls in frustration. He debates on whether to send Aziraphale a response telling him he loves him too but thinks it best to wait. Aziraphale needs to focus, they all do.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s talking to someone.” Travis whispers.</p><p> </p><p>The trio are crouched behind a large rock, hopefully hiding them from anyone who might be watching from the road or school lot.</p><p> </p><p>“Where?” Crowley stretches his neck looking for the other figure. “Should we move in?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Andrew places his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “He’s talking to someone on the phone.” He removes the hand and uses it to point at Aziraphale. “See how the screen lights up the side of his face?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think it’s them?” Crowley scans the surrounding area, searching for any sign of movement.</p><p> </p><p>“Most likely.” Travis murmurs, tipping his hat back on his head. “How did they get his phone number? You suppose it’s someone you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t have to be.” Crowley vibrates with nervous energy. It’s taking every ounce of willpower he has not run immediately to his husband’s side. “We seem to be cursed with enemies who have unlimited resources. I’m amazed at what information they’re able to get on us.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I never saw the body.” Andrew shifts from one knee to the other in the dirt. “They took it out too quick, but the hospital staff confirmed.” He tilts his head from side to side. “Can’t see that many people involved in a lie.”</p><p> </p><p>“You lost me because cuz.” Crowley allows his eyes to drift from an agitated Aziraphale, to offer his cousin a confused eyebrow raise.</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Aziraphale screams loudly in the distance, and at the same time rustling occurs in the forest behind them.</p><p> </p><p>“Go to him.” Andrew gives Crowley a sharp nod, then pushes himself to stand and bolts into the woods. Travis follows close behind.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley, adrenaline pumping, vaults himself over the rock. He lands harder than intended, the impact sending a shock through his joints. He’ll definitely feel the effects of that in the morning, but right now he’s only focus is getting to Aziraphale.</p><p> </p><p>Briars catch at his jeans and arms. Crowley flinches, the sharp points digging into his skin, as he hurdles past the thick foliage and onto the loose gravel.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale slams into him. The couple stumble on the small, untethered stones, before Crowley regains his balance, steadying them both.</p><p> </p><p>“Angel?’ He gasps holding the blond in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“They know we didn’t follow instructions.” Aziraphale tugs Crowley towards the tree line. “We need to get Andrew and Travis and leave immediately.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Crowley holds Aziraphale tightly. “Oh, God, Dove. Did they threaten you?” He makes himself into a full body shield, blocking as much of his husband as possible from the surrounding environment.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no my dear.” Aziraphale wriggles his arm free to cup Crowley’s face. “They promised to harass us no more, so long as I left the money and the four of us depart post haste.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re kidding?” Crowley’s hair falls into his uncovered eyes and mouth, but he can’t bring himself to release Aziraphale long enough to fix the problem. “That simple? There’s got to be a catch.”</p><p> </p><p>“If there is, we will deal with it later.” His Angel squirms in his hold. “Honestly dearest, a quick departure is nearly impossible when you’re constricting me like a snake.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley mumbles an apology, unwinding his arms from Aziraphale’s torso. He instead grasps his hand, unwilling to break all contact.</p><p> </p><p>“If there isn’t a catch.“ Aziraphale continues. “I’d rather we not pass the opportunity to end this madness.”</p><p> </p><p>His hand in his husband’s, Crowley returns to the large stone where Travis and Andrew wait for them. Aziraphale proceeds to show both police officers the text and explain the phone conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“And of course, no one at the department is to look for the culprit.’ Aziraphale informs them both sternly. “If this can truly be done and over with this evening, I’d much prefer it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shouldn’t be hard.” Travis sniffs. “Most people around here honestly don’t like the two of you. It’s gonna make a lot of them happy you lost your money.”</p><p> </p><p>“Travis!” Andrew admonishes, but the younger man doesn’t seem perturbed.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s true.” Travis shrugs. “Besides we best get out of here before whoever it is in the woods changes their mind about letting us go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Crowley squeezes Aziraphale’s hand. Turning his full attention to his cousin. “Andrew, call me later. When you’re off work.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale rarely expresses his guilt these days. Talking about it makes things more difficult on Crowley. His sweet husband does enough to stave off his fears and anxieties.</p><p> </p><p>Besides, Crowley has his own guilt. Aziraphale can see it in the way Crowley frets over him, overly indulging his every whim.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, both of them suffer from guilt for different reasons. Whereas Crowley’s is caused, falsely in Aziraphale’s opinion, by his inadequacies to protect, Aziraphale’s guilt is a regret over having existed at all.</p><p> </p><p>He watches Crowley‘s face in the soft light of the cars dash as he drives along the road leading home. Aziraphale admires the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the chiseled strength of his jaw and imagines how much better the gorgeous red-head’s life would’ve been without him.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley had been young and vibrant when they’d met. It would’ve been so easy for him to eventually find love and settle down with someone who brought much less drama into his life.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley hadn’t suffered such severe emotional pain before Aziraphale. His nightmares, his anxieties and his feelings of guilt all derive from having had Aziraphale enter his world.</p><p> </p><p>Then there are Adam and Warlock, two of the most brilliant young people on the planet. There had been a line of good, eligible parents available for them. If Aziraphale hadn’t asked to be their father, they would’ve never found themselves in the danger they’d faced over this past weekend.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone would be better off with him gone. If he could sacrifice himself to take away his family‘s pain, he would do it without hesitation.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really think it’s over?” Crowley reaches to Aziraphale, taking his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure.” Aziraphale slides his thumb over the slender hand clasped in his. “I truly hope so.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry Angel.” Crowley concentrates on the road ahead.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re sorry?” The sound that leaves Aziraphale’s throat is indistinguishable between a sob and a laugh. “All of this is because of me. Because I dared to exist. Sometimes I wonder what horrible sin it is I’m paying for, and that I’m forcing you to pay with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Angel.” Crowley whimpers. Aziraphale looks out the side window as the trees flit by. He can feel Crowley periodically steal glances at him as they travel the remainder of the drive in silence.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale is jarred from his self-pity by a small gathering of people on their porch. Bri, Alexis, Sal, Harry, Greg, Beez and Dagon are stretched across the long wooden deck. “What in heaven’s name is all this?”</p><p> </p><p>“My guess.” Crowley mumbles. “My sister and her spouse can’t keep their curiosity in check.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Anthony.” Aziraphale reaches for Crowley’s arm in a panic. “This could very well make things worse.”</p><p> </p><p>“Angel, I’m gonna ask you a question that we both already know the answer to. Please don’t panic, I promise you that nothing will happen to you or our boys. I swear.” Crowley puts the car in park at the top of the driveway. Shutting off the engine, he takes his husband’s hands between his own. “Do you honestly think Andrew or any of those people on that porch are going to let this drop?”</p><p> </p><p>“They have to Anthony.” Aziraphale’s chest begins to ache, his fingers feel tingly. He hates these moments when the panic attempts to seize him. They occur at the worst possible times, like now when he needs to be strong, needs to make Crowley and their family know he isn’t worth the risk. “If they don’t, anyone of them could be seriously hurt or killed. You, Adam or Warlock could be.....”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Please not you. Not my children. Not any of these wonderful people I love so dearly. If anyone, let it be me. Please God just let it be me.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“No, Aziraphale.” Crowley says with force. “Whoever these people are, they need to be stopped, or they’ll just keep coming.” His voice cracks with emotion. “They’re Gabriel’s people or Hilderbert’s. People with a grudge. They won’t stop until they take you from me.” Crowley reaches around cupping the back of Aziraphale’s head, leading him into a desperate kiss. When they finally break apart, he drops his head to Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Don’t leave me.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale buries his nose in Crowley’s hair. “Come now my love, we have guests waiting for us.”</p><p> </p><p>If Crowley notices Aziraphale is avoiding the statement, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he kisses the blond once more, then exits and rounds the vehicle. Opening his Angel’s door, he offers his hand to help Aziraphale stand.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on with you?” Beez storms the couple before they’ve fully cleared the drive. “And don’t tell me nothing, cause nothing doesn’t involve withdrawing over two million dollars.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley lifts his free hand, palm out in a gesture of surrender. He allows Aziraphale to fill everyone in on the details of their current situation.</p><p> </p><p>“So how do you plan on handling this?” Sal says from the porch swing, seated between their sons.</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony and I can’t seem to agree on precisely that issue.” Aziraphale wonders if he sounds as desperate as he feels. “I think it’s better to let it go, and hope they are telling the truth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry Zira.” Beez’s tiny silhouette vibrates in the darkness. “But that’s bullshit. We can’t let this stand.”</p><p> </p><p>“I agree.” Crowley places a hand on their shoulder. “That’s why I plan on letting Andrew handle protecting Warlock and Adam, while I hold down the fort here.” He turns his head to look Aziraphale in the eyes. “This is going to be the last time. This popping up every few years with something new to wear us down has to stop. I swear on my life Angel, we are going to stop these people, and no one will ever hurt you again.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not gonna be just you and Andrew.” Bri stands from her seat on one of the rocking chairs. “We’re all in this together. Now could one of you let us in, I’m tired of sitting out here in the dark.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley lifts his house keys from his pocket and leads the group inside. If they had entered the home 30 seconds earlier, they would’ve noticed a figure exiting the back door before circling quickly to the front of the house.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>2 Hours Earlier</strong>
</p><p> </p><p><em>Good thing we brought Daniel’s car.</em> Amy thinks as they continue past the Crowley family home. The gathering on the front deck would have likely recognized her SUV.</p><p> </p><p>“Keep going to where the road dead ends.” She tells her companion. “Try not to draw attention to us, I can sneak up through the tree line and in through the back.”</p><p> </p><p>“This would’ve been a whole lot easier if they hadn’t given us such short notice.” Daniel complains. Amy has noticed over the past few days that he complains more than is necessary. He’s lucky he’s good in bed and that she really wants this money, or else she might have strangled him by now.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure things like this take time for the information to make it to and from the person in charge.” She cranes her neck, attempting to count the bodies on the porch and cars in the drive as the house fades behind them. She can clearly make out four cars, one of which is Aziraphale’s, but the number of people is harder to decipher. “I’m just glad it’s a new moon. It’ll make it harder to notice me.”</p><p> </p><p>After a few more minutes they reach the end of the road and park. Amy, already dressed in black, shoves her blonde ponytail under a dark cap. “I’ll hurry back as quickly as I can.”</p><p> </p><p>“You got the key?” Daniel tips forward in the driver seat looking her up and down.</p><p> </p><p>“Here.” She pats her front jeans pocket. She’d had copies of all the keys made the night she had been moving her things from her and Harry’s home. She prides herself on being a forward thinker.</p><p> </p><p>“Boggles my mind how trusting these people are with one another.” Daniel shakes his head, green eyes wide. It was the same reaction he had when Amy informed him everyone in the family kept keys to everyone else’s homes in case of emergencies, or to care for things while they‘re away.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re a rare breed of naïve.” She agrees as she exits the vehicle and makes her way into the forest.</p><p> </p><p>It takes Amy about 15 minutes of swerving around underbrush and trees, trying to stay deep enough in the woods to be undetected, before she finds herself behind the family’s pond. Quickly she makes her way to the concrete back porch and allows herself into the door and the small kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Her contact had called for the meet up only an hour prior. Their part in this was to make certain Aziraphale and Crowley were off the property. They obviously hadn’t thought to check that no one else would be at the house.</p><p> </p><p>The person’s appearance had thrown Amy at first. Pale skin, short platinum hair, and virtually colorless eyes. Their pupils were dark, but their irises were such a light gray it practically blended with their scleras. It reminded Amy of the filmed over look of a corpse’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>They had given her two GPS trackers to place on the underside of Crowley’s Bentley and Aziraphale’s Impala, and five small listening devices to scatter throughout the home.</p><p> </p><p>None of this is going to be easy. Each of the bugs needs to be wired into an electronic to make sure they keep a constant charge. The GPS trackers would have been no hassle, if not for the party which had surprisingly decided to congregate in the front lawn.</p><p> </p><p>Amy looks around the kitchen using her cell phone screen for light. The microwave would be the simplest to mount a device, but she needs something that would be less likely moved. The refrigerator is too inconvenient, shoved between the wall and the counter. She’d have to move the whole thing out to get to where she needed, requiring too much effort and causing too much noise.</p><p> </p><p>So, Amy settles on the deep freezer. Scooting it from the wall, she flinches as it makes a scraping noise. She waits a tic to make sure she hasn’t been heard. When it appears she’s still good, Amy squishes herself behind the appliance and wires the small rectangular device into the back.</p><p> </p><p>She proceeds to move about the house, continuing her work as stealthily as possible. By the time she’s finished there is a bug inside the Blu-ray player in the living room, digital clock in the bedroom, wall clock in the bathroom and an old AM/FM radio in Aziraphale’s library.</p><p> </p><p>Amy decides to wait out the remainder of her time, back pressed against the living room wall beside the large front window. She can’t see anything wrong with eavesdropping while anticipating the perfect moment to flee from the home and set up what is needed on the vehicles.</p><p> </p><p>She can easily hear everything being said through the thin windowpane. She’s shocked to learn that Aziraphale and Crowley hadn’t spilled the beans to the entire family. They had apparently followed orders more closely than her benefactors believed. She cringes when she hears her soon to be ex-husband speak, as well as his brother and bitch ass mom.</p><p> </p><p>Amy isn’t sure how much time actually passes, but it seems to drag on and on. Finally, after what feels like days, Aziraphale and Crowley arrive home. She wants to vomit listening to all those words of undying love and devotion, followed by one of the family members (Bri maybe?) agreeing they’re all in this together and asking to be let into the house.</p><p> </p><p>“These assholes are unbelievable.” Amy mumbles, power walking across the living room and kitchen. “They’re like a fucking 90’s family sitcom.”</p><p> </p><p>She opens and closes the back door in sync with its counterpart and circles around to the front of the house. She peeks to the driveway, making sure the coast is clear. When she’s certain they’re all inside she ducks behind the Bentley and Impala in turn, mounting the trackers on the underside of each vehicle.</p><p> </p><p>Relieved at having completed what she was sent to do, Amy treks back to Daniel and his sedan. Absolutely certain her former family is occupied and won’t notice her, she follows the dirt road.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, May 27, 12:00PM, Columbus, Ohio</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I just got off the phone with my lieutenant.” Andrew’s voice carries from the coffee table where Warlock has him on speaker phone. “Someone leaked information, and although we don’t suspect Mcbriar or Cortez, we won’t be stationing them on you again, just to be safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“That sucks.” Adam kicks his legs up onto the couch. “Mcbriar and Cortez are cool.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, feel lucky.” Andrew sounds tired. “I don’t know how I was able to pull this off. The higher ups are offering no protection to your Dad and Pops. They didn’t want to grant it to you at first either. Then out of nowhere this morning, my lieutenant calls me and says her bosses have changed their minds and agree to place two new officers on the three of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not gonna say I wasn’t a little nervous when Cortez and Mcbriar said they had to leave us Tuesday evening.“ Brian pulls Warlock closer on the loveseat. He’s beyond relieved they’re going to receive continued protection. The past two days have been nerve-racking, especially after Crowley called and said that he doesn’t think this is all over. “When should we be expecting the replacements?”</p><p> </p><p>“From what I understand, the first officer, an Officer Gilt should be arriving any moment now. His counterpart, Officer Fier, will cover the night shift. I’ve never met either of them, but Travis claims to know them. Says they’re OK.” There’s a voice behind Andrew calling his name. “Hey kids I got to go. Take care and stay put until I know for certain this is over.”</p><p> </p><p>“Will do. Thanks Andrew.” Warlock taps the red button and ends the call.</p><p> </p><p>As if on cue, a knock sounds from the entryway. Adam crosses the living room. Stopping beside the locked door, he presses his eye to the small one-way peep-hole On the other side stands a chubby man, an inch or two shorter than his Pops. He’s wearing an OSP uniform, top of his head bald and shiny with a ring of light brown hair circling the lower half of his head.</p><p> </p><p>Adam opens the door slowly and leans against the frame. “Officer Gilt?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what they’re calling me.” The officer smiles, a few of his teeth capped in gold.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Hurts 2B Human</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A loved one dies for the mess up with the ransom, and things go in an awful direction for Crowley and Aziraphale</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is P!nk song. Hope you like it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Friday, May 28, 12:30PM, Oak Hill, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Mabel may not be a grown-up, but she’s definitely not a baby anymore. She notices the way the adults whisper when she’s nearby. Sometimes they stop talking completely.</p><p> </p><p>It’s about her mom and Daddy breaking up. Mabel doesn’t understand why they’re trying to hide it from her, she’s glad her mom is leaving. Now Mabel and her Daddy won’t be called mean names anymore.</p><p> </p><p>She finds it strange how everyone expects her to love her mom just because they’re related. Mabel’s love doesn’t work like that, she loves people her make her feel loved.</p><p> </p><p>“You think somethin’s wrong with me Phillip?” Mabel sits criss-cross on the center of the netted in trampoline.</p><p> </p><p>“Nah.” The five-year-old jumps around her, causing Mabel to achieve a small amount of lift with each of his landings. “I think you’re the coolest ever. Most big kids won’t hang out with little kids.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wish you lived here.” She places her hands to her sides to keep from tipping over. “We’d hang out everyday.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’d be awesome!” He tucks his legs beneath himself and drops to the mat. “It’s your turn to bounce me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe when you’re an adult you could move here?” Rising to her feet, Mabel musses his dark hair, resulting in a playful hand slap. “Nobody around here likes me too much.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes they do!” Phillip laughs as Mabel’s first leap makes contact and knocks him onto his side. “Your Daddy loves you, so does my Papa and Mama and Gramma and Jake.” His hazel eyes go wide with excitement. “Oh! And Zira, Crowley, Adam, Warlock, Brian, Bri, Alexis, Andrew, Eeep!!”</p><p> </p><p>Mabel cuts him off by making an intentionally heavy landing inches from his right side, causing him to get a lot of air and land on his back. “Yeah, I know that. I mean the other kids around here don’t like me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Phillip flops about until he gets himself readjusted into a sitting position.</p><p> </p><p>“The girls say I’m too weird.” She stops hopping, her forehead crinkles in thought. “The boys are scared cause I beat one of ‘em up once.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you really shouldn’t fight.” Phillip says like the wise man that he is. “Unless it’s to save someone. Like a super-hero.”</p><p> </p><p>“But it was to save someone!” Mabel traipses to the side of the mat and launches herself into a full front flip, then back to catapulting her cousin. “There’s this girl, her name’s Miranda, and I used to think she was the prettiest ever.”</p><p> </p><p>“M’kay.” Phillip teeters from side to side.</p><p> </p><p>“This boy Levi was throwing dirt at her and calling her ugly.” Mabel falls onto her rump with enough force that a second later the momentum brings her back to her feet. “So I bloodied his nose and told him not to be hurting her or talking about her that way, cause she’s beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>“What made you stop thinking she is pretty?” Phillip seems to have resigned the idea of staying upright and falls onto his back.</p><p> </p><p>“Right after I saved her, she called me a ‘freak’ just like my ‘queer’ cousins. That she didn’t need a girl to do a boys job in her life.” Mabel falls to lay prone beside him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yup.” The five-year-old agrees. “She sounds really ugly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lots of people round here are.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mabel! Phillip!” Airi calls frantically from their Gramma’s back porch. “You need to come inside! Something awful has happened!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>1:00PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley pulls the Bentley onto St. Rt. 32 and hits 100MPH in less than five seconds. This time Aziraphale doesn’t complain. Not that his angel complains about any other aspect of his driving, just the speed. His Bentley is a powerful machine, and on these four-lane highways he normally can’t help but open her up.</p><p> </p><p>Today is not about the Bentley or the freedom of the open road. Today’s speed is the result of fear and panic of the unknown. Crowley can’t let himself think about it, if he does he’ll start crying, and they’d never get there.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s phone rings, and Crowley’s eyes shoot to him in a panic. His husband smiles sweetly and squeezes his knee.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s only Warlock.” The blond swipes his thumb over the screen and places it to his ear. “Hello.”</p><p> </p><p>There is a pause in which Aziraphale is listening. “No, we haven’t heard anything yet...... That is disappointing. I’m sure it’s for your own safety.”</p><p> </p><p>He takes Crowley’s hand. “Yes, we love all three of you as well. As soon as I have more information I’ll let you know.”</p><p> </p><p>He taps the icon to end the call and drops the phone onto his lap. “Officer Gilt advises they not make the trip to Adena. Feels it may put them in open danger if there is a threat.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>If</em> there is a threat?!” Crowley doesn’t mean for his voice to be so loud. He feels more than a little guilty at the way it causes Aziraphale to jump. “This is a goddamn declaration of war.”</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t know that this isn’t some terrible coincidence.” He doesn’t seem at all convinced of his own words.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not a coincidence, Angel.” Crowley slows the car enough that he can thread his fingers between the comforting warmth of his husband’s. “But we’ll solve this, we will. They’re going to be alright, and then we’ll all team up together and take these bastards down.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s phone dings indicating an incoming text. He looks down at the screen and nearly crushes Crowley’s hand. “Pull over Anthony.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Why?” <em>No, no, no!</em> “We need to hurry. Sal needs us. Harry and Greg need us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anthony, my love, please pull the car to the side of the road.” Aziraphale lessens the grip on his hands, magnificent blue eyes clouding with tears.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley fights to concentrate, looking frantically for a safe place to idle the car. <em>They’re fine. They’ve been my sibling longer than my own flesh and blood sister. They survived Marcus. Escaped hell.</em> He feels dizzy, the world around him hazy like a horrible dream. <em>Their children and grandchildren will be wrecked. Jake and Bri will be wrecked. We all will be wrecked.</em></p><p> </p><p>Crowley spies a rest area and maneuvers the car into a spot before throwing it into park. Aziraphale reaches across the center console and pulls him as close as possible. Both barely register the arm rest cutting into their sides. “We can be there for Jake, Harry, and Greg my darling.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, no.” Crowley sobs into the strong, soft shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, my sweet Anthony.” Aziraphale peppers kisses to Crowley’s head. He can hear his Angel sniffle, the damp of his tears falling against Crowley’s silver-streaked hair. “Sal is gone.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>1:45PM Adena Medical Center</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale had driven the Bentley the remainder of the way to Adena, Ohio. Upon entering the front lobby of the hospital, he’s relieved that Andrew and Alexis are waiting to greet them.</p><p> </p><p>Adena Medical Center is larger than Holzer Hospital, and Aziraphale hadn’t been sure he and Crowley could’ve withstood searching for their family’s location in the spaced out structure. Aziraphale feels as if he’s on autopilot, not truly present at all.</p><p> </p><p>“We were hoping you’d show before we all left.” Andrew hugs Crowley and then Aziraphale briefly before his sister does the same. “Jake says he’ll handle most of the difficult stuff. Wants to give Harry and Greg room to help where they want, but not be overburdened with it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” Crowley croaks, he’s disheveled and leaning against Aziraphale for support.</p><p> </p><p>“Inmate.” Andrew shifts uncomfortably. His and Alexis’ eyes are red and puffy from an hours worth of tears. “Hurts to keep repeating it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I got it this time.” Alexis shoos him towards the plush bench they had just evacuated. Looking to the new arrivals. “He had to tell everyone else. The station sent him up, so he’s here on both an official and personal capacity.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s terrible.” Aziraphale looks over her shoulder at the sagging, ragged man in uniform.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I thought.” Alexis clears her throat. “I guess Sal’s dorm at the prison has an employee room with a fridge and microwave. From what the prison representative told Andrew, they assign an inmate porter to clean that area.”</p><p> </p><p>Alexis has begun to cry again, backing away she takes a seat beside her brother.</p><p> </p><p>“What did he do to them?” Aziraphale holds Crowley close to his side. They all look towards the elevator on the far end of the structure as Harry, Greg, Mabel, Airi, Phillip, Jake and Bri exit in a large group.</p><p> </p><p>“Fentanyl.” Andrew adds, swiveling his head to face back in their direction. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “The porter, a Bruce Stout, confessed to dropping the powder in an open pop can they’d left in the fridge between their rounds. They were dead before the ambulance arrived at the prison.”</p><p> </p><p>The morose crowd arrive at their location, Harry and Greg pulling Aziraphale and Crowley into a tearful group hug. Mabel and Phillip drifting behind them.</p><p> </p><p>“Ya’ll right, Maybe Baby?” Crowley kneels to Mabel’s level. She shakes her head, hugging him tightly around the neck.</p><p> </p><p>“How about you my sweet one?” Aziraphale lowers himself as well addressing Phillip.</p><p> </p><p>“I.” The small boy looks up to his mother and father, then back to Aziraphale. “I don’t understand.”</p><p> </p><p>The child breaks into body racking sobs and floats into Aziraphale’s open arms. The blond stands, lifting the child with him and turns to Greg and Harry. “Would you like for us to take them for a few days while you get everything sorted out?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t.” Harry reaches to his daughter who releases Crowley to take her father’s hand. “I want to have this time with the only woman in my life who hasn’t been ripped away.”</p><p> </p><p>Greg reaches out taking Phillip. “I’d feel better if we were all with Jake, helping him work this stuff out.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>5:00PM, Columbus, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Brian isn’t sure he’s ever hated anyone as much as he hates Gilt. The asshole is a condescending prick to all of them but seems to take a special delight in being cruel to Warlock. The pudgy fuck has only been with them 5 hours and Brian’s fought the urge to kick his ass on at least as many occasions.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never been able to stand the ones like you.” Gilt jeers punting to Warlock. “I can respect the ones like your boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up, you old homophobic dick.” If Warlock weren’t clinging to him so tightly right now, Brian’s certain he’d end up with a charge. The shithead looks to be mid-sixties and is out of shape. If not for the gun on his hip Brian could lay him out quickly and assault on a police officer doesn’t sound all too bad right now. “We’ve just lost someone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Said I was sorry about that.” Gilt rolls his eyes, not sounding sorry at all. The bastard seems more interested in Adam preparing dinner in the next room. “And I’m not homophobic, I just think men should act like men. Someone I once looked up to was bi and extremely manly. Great guy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I act like a man.” Warlock looks up, his tear-streaked face contorted in confusion. “I am one, so I assume by acting like me, then I’m acting like a man.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re soft.” Gilt’s lip curls showing those god-awful gold teeth. “A sissy. You’re just like.” He pauses as if remembering something. “Well, that guy I mentioned, he had a tart of a boyfriend just like you.” He’s pointing his finger at Warlock again and Brian wishes he could break it off. Moving his index finger to Brian. “Just be warned. That little princess did nothing but cause him problems.”</p><p> </p><p>“How about you just do your job?” Brian stands pulling Warlock with him. “We’re going to see if we can help with dinner. You stay here and do anything but talk.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” Adam looks up from his pan of stir fry, dark circles prominent on his pale skin as he’s joined in the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“You need any help?” Brian pulls out one of the dining chairs and takes a seat.</p><p> </p><p>“Nah. I think I got this.” Adam leans back, glancing around the entryway to the living room. “Heard everything. I think we need to get Gilt replaced.”</p><p> </p><p>“Think after dinner I’m gonna call your parents. Wanna wait til we can lock ourselves away from prying ears.” Brian keeps his voice barely above a whisper as he leads Warlock onto his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just hoping Fier isn’t as bad.” Warlock rests his body against Brian’s as his boyfriend’s arms fold around his middle.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>8:30PM, Oak Hill, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“He’s just so mean.” Warlock sounds far away. Speaker phone is great in the fact that all three can converse with Aziraphale at the same time but makes them difficult to understand when they’re trying to not be heard by the hateful man in the next room.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are you?” Aziraphale positions the air mattress on the living room floor. He and Crowley have decided to have a movie night in the living room like they used to before having children, but their backs need more than a blanket for support these days. Warlock had called only moments after Crowley had gone to get the pizza and beer.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re in the guest room.” Brian chips in. “Gilt’s out in the living room.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll speak to Andrew. See if he can talk to his supervisor about switching Gilt with someone better suited tomorrow.” Aziraphale, pleased with the firmness of the mattress, pulls himself to his feel using the arm of the recliner.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell him not to trust Travis’ opinion from here on out.” Adam sounds as if he is directly over the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s already on the same page. Travis has made some unkind remarks in mine and your Dad’s presence as well.” Aziraphale peruses the Blu-ray cases. “He’s planning to request someone else finish the young man’s mentoring because of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Makes sense why Travis likes Gilt I guess.” Brian again. “I mean you have to see this guy. I don’t mean to judge, but he even looks like a skeeze-ball.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Warlock. “Short, bald, gold teeth.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Aziraphale freezes where he stands above the Blu-ray player, chosen case open in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Kept talking about how this guy he used to know was so manly and men should all act manly like him.” Adam continues, completely unaware his Pops has forgotten how to breathe. “Think for all his talk, Gilt had a crush on the guy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Could, Uh.” Aziraphale snaps the case shut and grabs his car keys. “Could you take a photo of Gilt on Adam’s phone and send it to me? Don’t hang up this phone in the process.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah Pops. Give me a minute.” Adam still. “Going now. What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hopefully nothing, but to be safe don’t let him know you’re taking the photo.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Shuffling noises. “Be right back.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s phone dings, looking at the screen a drop down message for a text has appeared. He puts the boys on speaker as well and clicks the message.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Unknown Number:</strong> <em>Stop right there sunshine</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Got it Pops.” Comes Adam’s voice and another drop down message containing a photo of one of Gabriel’s former associates.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Unknown Number:</strong> <em>Tell them not to worry. That everything is fine.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Oh, thank goodness. I’m so silly. Seems I panicked over nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay to worry Pops.” Sweet Warlock, always so gentle. “All of us are on edge right now.”</p><p> </p><p><strong>Unknown Number:</strong> <em>Now, hang up and wait to accept my phone call.</em></p><p> </p><p>“So true my dear boy.” Aziraphale does little to bite back his sob. He has the inclination that this may be the last time he ever speaks to his children. “I hope you know how much I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Love you too Pops.” Warlock’s kind voice is bittersweet to Aziraphale’s ears.</p><p> </p><p>“Love ya Pops.” Adam. <em>Oh, he sounds tired. He’s lost so much this past week.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Love you.” Brian adds.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale laughs through his tears. “Goodnight, I hope you all dream of whatever you like best.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale had spoken these same words to Adam and Warlock throughout their youth as he tucked them into bed. When the call ends, he closes his eyes and clasps the device to his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Seconds later it begins to ring.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>8:40PM, Columbus, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>There is a knock at the guest room door. When Adam opens it, Gilt stands just beyond. Beside him is a stately looking woman, her dark curls shorn closely to her head.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s up?” Adam asks with all the nonchalance of someone who totally wasn’t secretly snapping the dude’s pick 10 minutes ago.</p><p> </p><p>“Great news.” The gold tooth bastard claps his hands together. “I thought Officer Fier was here to take over, but instead she’s brought with her the information that your whole ordeal is over.”</p><p> </p><p>“They caught who’s been scaring us, the person who killed Sal?” Warlock sags onto Brian in relief from their perch on the edge of the bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“They have.” Fier barely moves, her tone coldly professional. “It seems Raven Sable was running the entire scam from prison. An Amy Weston, Daniel Keeler, Fenrir Hilderbert and a character who goes by the name Chalky were his underlings.”</p><p> </p><p>“Amy Weston?” Adam stumbles. “You’re fucking with me?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Fier blinks, nostrils flaring. “We are most definitely not fucking with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Harry shouldn’t have any issues getting custody of Mabel.” Adam glances to his brother who looks as numb as Adam feels. Turning his attention back to the cops. “Amy Weston is our cousin’s soon to be ex-wife. Mabel’s their daughter.”</p><p> </p><p>“Was.” Gilt gives one of his creepy ass grins. “Was your cousin’s ex-wife. She’s dead.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pardon?” Brian’s head snaps up as he grapples for Warlock’s hand. “Wha-what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“She, Keeler, Chalky and Hilderbert were holed up in the same house together.” Fier looks bored with them. “When Officer Mcfann, or Travis as you wish to call him, arrived to take them into custody, they opened fire. Our man had no choice but to handle the situation.</p><p> </p><p>“Does Harry know?” Adam gingerly takes a seat on the bed beside Brian.</p><p> </p><p>“Not yet. Only you three and Aziraphale Crowley have received this information.” Gilt waves as he a Fier turn to leave the apartment. “Have a good life.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>9:30PM, Oak Hill, Ohio</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley is finally getting out of Kali’s with their pizza. He’d shown up close to an hour ago and they had, of course, forgotten his order. Not that any more shit could go wrong right now.</p><p> </p><p>Struck with a moment of superstitious fear, Crowley knocks on the wooden exterior of the restaurant. A lot of things could still go wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Pizza in the passenger seat, he makes a quick stop for the beer and onward home to his angel. He needs those arms around him right now. To be comforted in a way only Aziraphale can.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley lets his mind wander to what he might be in for tonight. He has told Aziraphale pick the movie, all he asks is that it be something light and with a happy ending. Crowley needs happy, they both do, he just wishes they could be there for their children.</p><p> </p><p>If they can’t come to us, then maybe tomorrow me and Aziraphale will go to them. Crowley decides. He and Aziraphale will have this night together, and then stay with the boys in Columbus until the funeral. He’s fairly certain Aziraphale will agree.</p><p> </p><p>Several minutes later he’s finally home. The curtains are pulled and only the soft light of the flickering TV is illuminating through.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry it took so long Dove.” Crowley calls, kicking the door closed. Aziraphale must have heard him coming, the door was already open for him to enter with his arm load. “Had an idea to run past you.”</p><p> </p><p>He looks around the living room, but his husband isn’t there. He makes his way to the kitchen. “Thought maybe when we get up tomorrow we take a ride to see Warlock, Adam and Brian.”</p><p> </p><p>The kitchen is empty as well. Crowley sets the pizza and beer on the table. “Angel?”</p><p> </p><p>He pokes his head into Adam’s room. Nothing. He crosses to Warlock’s room. Again empty.</p><p> </p><p>He turns to walk towards the other end of the house, thinking that maybe Aziraphale is in his library, when he spots the note taped to the front of the television screen.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley’s stomach churns. With a shaking hand he takes the note from the flat screen. The writing is Aziraphale’s but the words don’t make sense.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>My dearest Anthony,</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I’m so very sorry, my love. that it has taken me two decades to do the right thing. I could’ve saved you and everyone else from so much pain if I had only declined Sal’s request for a ride all those years ago. Imagine how much different everything would be, if I had just stayed in a hotel until the next bus had ran through?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I’m certain you would’ve found happiness with someone less complicated. You’ve always been so beautiful, and so good. I must admit it has been more than a little selfish on my part that I claimed you and stood in the way of such a happiness.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“No, Angel.” Crowley drops to his knees, tears burning his eyes. “No one else could’ve compared. Could’ve made me this happy.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>I’ve come to the realization, it is a sin to love me, that’s why no one has before you and yours, aside from my sweet mother, and she paid for it with an early grave. Such as Sal, poor Sal who has also paid the ultimate price for bringing this sin to your family.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not a sin.” Crowley hopelessly babbles, tears staining the paper in his grip. “You’re life, the reason I breathe.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Therefore, I am removing my stain from all of you before anyone else can get hurt. I’m going of my own free will, please don’t come looking for me. You will likely receive paperwork in the following days, relieving you of our union. You’ll only need to address it’s contents with my appointed lawyer. I leave all I have left to you, Warlock and Adam.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Know that my reasoning is not a lack of love. I love you so very deeply and dearly. You, our children and the life we created will forever be my greatest achievement. But I fear my presence could eventually lead to everyone’s destruction.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Let me stress one last time, please do not look for me, live your lives as though I too have passed on. Love one another and think upon me fondly.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Goodbye my dearest love,</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Aziraphale</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s a blessing that the Crowley home is situated so far away from civilization. No nosy neighbors, no close-minded gossips. Only the animals of the surrounding forests can hear the nearly inhuman wails and screams of pain which reverberate through the once happy home’s walls.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Ashes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale has let himself be taken but he’s forming a plan. Crowley is frightened for the Angel he can’t find. The opposition’s players are becoming more evident.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is a Céline Dion song.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>10:15PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“This is bullshit!” Crowley cries in desperation pleading with the two officers standing in his living room. “He would never just leave me! Someone made him do this!”</p><p> </p><p>“Nowhere in that letter does Aziraphale identify that he’s in any sort of danger.” Travis pipes in, of course he does, Crowley hasn’t liked him since he met him. “In fact, he says specifically that he is going of his own free will.”</p><p> </p><p>“What his letter says and what it means are two entirely different things!” Crowley waves the paper in Travis‘s face “This is those assholes who came after the money. Same people who had Sal murdered.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re being overly emotional.” Travis hooks his right thumb in his duty belt.</p><p> </p><p>“This is too much at once to be coincidence, plus Aziraphale’s car is still parked outside.” Crowley advances on the younger man, his index finger pointed out like a weapon. “You think he just decided to walk into a new life?! From the middle of fucking nowhere?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Listen old man.” Travis puffs up. “I know you think you’re sumthin’ because of who you were married to.” His lip twists in disgust. “But I got news for you, you’re no longer with Mr. Rich Light in the Loafers. Y’all ain’t shit anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“You motherfucker.” Crowley charges at the son-of-a-bitch.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew takes Crowley by the arms, turning him so that they are face-to-face. Crowley notices something in his cousin’s eyes that the man’s words don’t convey. “He’s a snotty little brat, but maybe he’s right.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Crowley’s brow draws together tightly. <em>What are you telling me? You can’t possibly believe this shit.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Does he have an Uber app?” Andrew backs away releasing his cousin. His expression morphs from intense to sympathetic.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Crowley steps away as well, giving his visitors space. “He does.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that explains it.” Travis shrugs. “I know it sucks giving up all that money, but I’m sure you’ll make do.” He makes his way to the door, pulling it open he turns to Andrew. “Comin’ Chief? It’s quitting time and I’ve got somewhere to be.”</p><p> </p><p>Gritting his teeth, Andrew turns to follow the younger man. “It is really amazing what you can do with phone apps.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale had only been mildly surprised when Chalky stepped into the foyer. Their entrance timed perfectly for Aziraphale, who was exiting his and Crowley’s bedroom as the intruder flung open the front door.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale had changed into the old outfit of blue jeans, ball cap and black hoodie. He had arrived in this outfit two decades ago, it seems only fitting he depart in the same attire as when he had arrived.</p><p> </p><p>He knew someone was coming, had a small list of people it could be, just wasn’t sure who on that list to expect.</p><p> </p><p>They had hovered over his shoulder as he wrote his note ensuring it was ‘convincing’. Aziraphale cried silently as he wrote it, each word placed to the paper was a deeper truth about himself than he’d ever shared with Crowley before. He can make this sacrifice because he believes in why he is doing it. He just prays his husband will not only forgive him, but, if by some grand miracle Aziraphale were to make it back, still love him.</p><p> </p><p>Satisfied with his work, Chalky had Aziraphale climb into the trunk of their car. <em>Always the trunk. At least they didn’t drug me this time.</em></p><p> </p><p>He’s passed at least hour like this, if not a bit more. Aziraphale’s legs begin to cramp from his curled position, when his pocket begins to buzz.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>They hadn’t checked me for my phone!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He pulls it from the front pouch of his hoodie, the screen reading Warlock’s name.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of answering, he taps decline and sends his son a text message.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Aziraphale:</strong> <em>I’m terrible busy my dear one. Is everything alright?</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Warlock:</strong> <em>Yeah. Sorta. Good news mixed with bad news.</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Aziraphale:</strong> <em>Please share.</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Warlock:</strong> <em>Travis found the people who were doing this. That Raven guy was running it from prison. Travis went to arrest the people not in prison and they opened fire. So he shot them all.</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Aziraphale:</strong> <em>Oh goodness! Did you get their names?</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Warlock:</strong> <em>Fier and Gilt gave them to us before they left. Guy named Daniel, some dude named after that wolf from your Norse book, that Chalky person Beez used to date and Harry’s ex Amy.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>What little faith Aziraphale had been retaining in Amy totally dissipates. He’d held hope she could be a decent person deep down for her daughter’s sake. But it’s now obvious she is beyond redemption.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Aziraphale:</strong> <em>Poor Mabel!</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Warlock:</strong> <em>I know. I won’t keep you because it seems you and Dad are busy. Please don’t tell me what you’re doing. Lol. We’re getting ready for bed anyway, just wanted you to know. I love you.</em></p><p> </p><p><strong>Aziraphale:</strong> <em>Nothing so fun for your Dad and I. Love you too dear heart. Sleep well.</em></p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale turns the phone off completely. It’s best not to let anyone know he has it.</p><p> </p><p>Then it slowly dawns on Aziraphale what he’s inadvertently done. It was incredibly foolish of him to send an answer those messages. Whoever is commanding Chalky and Gabriel’s man Gold had the ability to not only know who he was speaking to earlier, but what they were saying.</p><p> </p><p><em>But I never broke their façade, so all should be well.</em> Aziraphale tries to stretch in an attempt to relieve the tension in his hips. <em>I’ll relinquish my phone willingly when we next stop and inform them of the text</em>. It seems the best way to show his submission.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale can’t move enough to get comfortable. In an attempt to take his mind off of his discomfort, he runs over all the information he currently knows.</p><p> </p><p>Chalky is reported as dead and yet they are driving the car in which he’s being held captive. Travis is reported as having taken them down, which indicates he’s involved with the opposition. It’s also very likely, that if Chalky’s death is merely a rumor, then the same goes for all the earlier names mentioned.</p><p> </p><p>Except one. One doesn’t make sense, because if Chalky is here, Aziraphale is definite Raven isn’t involved at all, let alone in charge.</p><p> </p><p>The plan is beginning to take shape for Aziraphale. The seeds of it had been planted before he had hung up the phone with the electronic voice a little over an hour ago. But now with each bit of new information it begins to flourish and grow.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley had promised that all the turmoil was going to end soon, and Aziraphale is going to make certain that vow is kept.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale knows he has little hope of surviving this, but he’s going to make damn sure no one threatens his husband or their family again.</p><p> </p><p>He hopes Crowley and the boys will forgive him, prays they understand this is all to keep them safe.</p><p> </p><p>God knows, Aziraphale may never forgive himself.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>11:21PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Phone Apps!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley nearly smacks himself for not thinking of it earlier. Part of their family phone plan includes a tracker that allows each of them to see where the others‘ phones are so long as the searched for device is on.</p><p> </p><p>He can barely control his limbs enough to tap the icon. Warlock and Adam’s phones come up immediately, still in their apartment. Crowley plans to call them the moment he can find Aziraphale’s location.</p><p> </p><p>The inkling of hope Crowley feels dissolves as the tiny wheel turns in the center of the screen. Below it the words searching for location. The worry weighs like lead in the pit of the stomach and he can barely breathe.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on Angel. Come oooooon!” He draws the last word out, praying that the universe, fate or whoever is in charge of this huge cosmic shit-show, will help him.</p><p> </p><p>Deep down though, he knows he’s begging Aziraphale. Since the moment they’ve met, his Angel has been the only idol in his life, the only deity that’s truly mattered.</p><p> </p><p>His hope withers all the more when that spinning wheel stops and the phone reads, last known location Ironton, Ohio, an hour and 25 minutes ago.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit!” Aziraphale could be heading anywhere. If it’s Gabriel’s people, that means Miami, Florida. Then there’s the Hilderbert brat, that’s Tennessee. And if it’s Raven Sable. Where did he say he was from? Georgia? Alabama? All Crowley can remember is it was somewhere down south.</p><p> </p><p>It wouldn’t do Aziraphale any good for Crowley to run off half-cocked and end up in an entirely wrong state.</p><p> </p><p><em>Think, think! Pull yourself together and think! </em>Crowley scolds himself as he falls onto the recliner. Dropping his head into his hands, his cell clatters to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>He allows himself this time to weep. He’s alone, utterly alone. He’s failed the first person to ever walk into his life and treat him like he’d hung the stars. The only person to want him, not because of what he looks like, but because of who he is.</p><p> </p><p><em>The first person but not the only. </em>Crowley pulls himself from his own thoughts and snatches the phone from the floor. He needs to call Warlock and Adam. If Aziraphale is in danger, the boys could be too. Opening his contacts, he taps Adam’s number.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Dad.” Adam sounds groggy. “You and Pops finish with whatever you were doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve talk to your Pops?” The words rush out both hopeful and broken.</p><p> </p><p>“Figured you were with him.” There’s a shuffling on the other end of the phone. “He talked to Warlock. Well texted. Said he was busy with something.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did they talk about?” Crowley bites his lip to keep the panic at bay. “And are you boys safe?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait. Dad, what’s going on?” Crowley can the hear background noises more clearly, indicating he’s been put on speakerphone.</p><p> </p><p>“Answer my question first Adam.” Crowley closes his eyes and leans back in recliner.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re safe. You‘d know that if you’d talked to Pops. Fier and Gilt left like two hours ago.” The sound of a door closing. “Said Travis Grant took out the people involved.”</p><p> </p><p>“Travis was just here with Andrew and neither of them said a word about any arrests being made.” Crowley wants to curl into the fetal position. This all just keeps getting progressively worse. Why would Andrew withhold that information? He wouldn’t there’s no possible way.</p><p> </p><p>Which means Travis was keeping that back, from both of them. If a major arrest like that has been made, Andrew would’ve known. Crowley‘s previous anger at Travis’ cocky, arrogant attitude is now moving into the realm of fear.</p><p> </p><p>“There weren’t any arrests.” Adam sounds confused, Crowley can hear his son knocking on a door, muffled voices and a creaking as the door opens. “The bad guys opened fire, Travis ended up having to shoot them. They all died.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Crowley’s eyes snap open and he scoots to the edge of his seat. “Who were they? Did he give you names?”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on?” Warlock, sounding sleepy and out of sorts.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Dad, I think something’s up.” Adam responds.</p><p> </p><p>“What now?” Brian groans.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re getting there.” Adam answers his friend. “Couple names I’ve heard you mention. First guy, Raven, didn’t get shot, he’s still in prison, but I guess he was giving the orders. Then there was that Chalky person Beez used to know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would they be working together?” Crowley stands, hurrying to the foyer he grabs his keys. <em>Of course, all of this would be orchestrated by the one guy I can’t remember where he’s from.</em> “Last I saw them, Raven nearly killed Chalky.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dunno, but that’s what they said.” Warlock’s voice is accompanied by the sound of a bed creaking. “Dad, is something wrong with Pops? He seemed weird the two times he talk to us tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s gone.” Crowley locks the door to the house and walks in long, quick strides to his car. “I came home from getting pizza for a movie night and all that was left was a note.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did it say?” Adams sounds as panicked as Crowley feels.</p><p> </p><p>“You guys give me everything your Pops said, and then I’ll answer your questions.” He starts the Bentley and begins backing out of the drive. “Until we figure all this out, I’m coming to get you.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>11:30PM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Travis escorts Bruce Stout to the cruiser. It’s not his first inmate transfer, but it’s the first under this name.</p><p> </p><p>The paperwork he presented to the officer at the front desk states that Stout is being escorted to a higher security prison after his new murder charge.</p><p> </p><p>Within the next half hour they’ll both be out of the system completely.</p><p> </p><p>Travis’, or Raymond Price as he was originally known, real job is with the city police in Empyrean Tennessee.</p><p> </p><p>It was difficult working with the OSP, Andrew specifically, as they have too many standards, too many guidelines to go by. Luckily their Jackson county branch, although not easily bought, have enough prejudices he could hide behind those. Could pretend the reason he had little compassion for the Crowley’s was their orientation. Raymond actually doesn’t care who anyone else wants to fuck, but the area’s homophobia made it a cakewalk to get the rest of the force to turn a blind eye to the things he was up to. Well except that one troublesome bastard.</p><p> </p><p>Empyrean City police, on the other hand, have been well aware of Fenrir Hilderbert’s location this entire time. The kid pays better and has much lower moral standards than his mother ever had. The majority of the law-enforcement there were pleased to help get rid of the goody-goody bitch. With Charity out of the way, they are all at an advantage to make triple their profits. The only requirement, the little psycho bastard stays happy and gets his way.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a lot younger than I expected.” Stout looks Raymond over before dipping his head to settle into the passenger seat of the Dodge.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m actually older than I look.” Raymond removes Stout’s cuffs and shackles. He hands the man a set of civilian clothes. “Most people mistake me for 10 to 15 years my junior. Comes with clean living.”</p><p> </p><p>Moments later he slides behind the wheel and hears Stout scoff. “Clean living? Is that what you call what we do?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d say you and I do things a lot different.” Raymond jeers, pushing the ignition causing the car to come to life. “I’ve been smart enough not to get caught.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” Stout bristles. His attempt at appearing menacing is dulled by the fact he is stripped to his underwear and fighting an orange jumpsuit over his feet. “You’ve had a rich benefactor and a badge protecting your pig ass!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you’ve got half that package now too.” Raymond backs the vehicle from the parking spot and aims it out of the lot. “Don’t go fucking it up.”</p><p> </p><p>As he pulls the vehicle onto the highway Raymond‘s phone chimes. He clicks it open and places it to his ear. “Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ray, why is your buddy Andrew in the system, scheduled at 12:00pm tomorrow for a professional visit at UCF with Raven Sable?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck.” Raymond was really hoping to get back to his life soon, but of course that family of nosy assholes couldn’t let that happen. “Thought they’d all drop this bullshit.”</p><p> </p><p>“They didn’t.” She spits. “I’ve already got Stout out of the system, as well as your alias. Fix this before switching cars and heading back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Get the transfer papers in, I’ll be there in an hour.” Hanging up Raymond glances at the half-dressed man to his right. “Looks like we gotta make a detour for another pick up.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Monday, May 31, 12:30PM EST</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley has been a bundle of nerves these past three days. He bought himself a pack of cigarettes the night he made his trip to Columbus to gather the boys and bring them home. He now stands on his front porch in a black dress shirt, tie and trousers, breathing in the toxic yet calming smoke.</p><p> </p><p>All he can think about is the fact that every individual who has ever threatened himself or his Angel have now taken the love of his life away.</p><p> </p><p>Well, all except one. Andrew had clarified his vague words from the night of the money exchange. Crowley had laughed darkly, informing his cousin that he had seen the body as the Hospital had rolled Gabriel away. The thought of a world where Gabriel might’ve still been a threat on top of everything else was a bit maddening.</p><p> </p><p>Saturday morning Andrew had looked into the other information Adam, Warlock and Brian had presented them. Amy Weston and Andrew Keeler (who had at least 5 other aliases) are confirmed deaths. Andrew has seen the bodies, and the rest of the Jackson County division of the OSP are aware of their passings. There, however had been no reported shootout. They seem to have been murdered point blank. So, them being dead is the extent of the truth given by Gilt and Fier. Or, thanks to Adam’s photo and description, more accurately Sandalphon Gold and Uriel Blaze.</p><p> </p><p>The deaths of Hilderbert and Chalky are fabricated, at least when it came to the validity that they were part of the same occurrence as Amy and Keeler. So as far as Andrew is able to tell, those two are most likely still alive.</p><p> </p><p>There’s also ample evidence that Travis is also working for Raven. Andrew had gone to interview Raven on Saturday, intending to question him about Aziraphale’s whereabouts. Hell, Andrew has planned to cut the evil bastard a deal, just to get Crowley’s Angel back, but when he’d arrived at UCF, he’d been informed that Raven had been transferred out the night before, escorted by an Officer Travis Grant.</p><p> </p><p>Even more disturbing, there’s no longer any record of Raven Sable or Travis Grant in any ODRC or police databases.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley had inadvertently allowed both of those assholes access to Aziraphale and now he’s paying for it.</p><p> </p><p>“You sure you can do this?” Brian is suddenly behind him. Crowley hadn’t even heard the front door open. He turns to face his future son-in-law, noticing Adam and Warlock are waiting on Crowley’s response as well. “It’s a lot to deal with. I’m sure Harry, Greg and Jake won’t be mad if you, Warlock and Adam can’t deal with all this right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine.” Crowley sniffs and wipe his eyes with the heel of his palms. He slides his sunglasses over his eyes and extinguishes a cigarette in a bottle he’s placed beside one of the rocking chairs before addressing his children. “What about you two? You up for this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Warlock locks his arm through Brian’s, tugging him toward the car.</p><p> </p><p>Adam nods. As he passes his father on his way to the Bentley, Crowley hears him whisper. “Hope Pops doesn’t get too upset he couldn’t be here.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s all it takes, ten simple words, and a small bit of Crowley dies. The flame of hope he’s carried doesn’t extinguish, it won’t as long as there is even the smallest chance Aziraphale will come back to him. What it does do is tamp down to a barely glowing ember.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Wrong Side of Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley keeps losing faith, Harry mourns his mom, Pepper and Adam finally talk and Aziraphale prepares to fight.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title is a Five Finger Death Punch song. Love you all thank you for sticking with me ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>9:30AM, CST, 2 Hours Earlier</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale has been left predominantly to himself. Well, that is if one doesn’t take into account Sandalphon, Uriel and Chalky stalking about on the lower floor.</p><p> </p><p>He had recognized Uriel and Sandalphon’s faces immediately, but it had taken each using the other’s name to know how to properly refer to them.</p><p> </p><p>The three moved throughout their area of the cabin, Aziraphale can hear them easily from the confines of his upper floor room.</p><p> </p><p>Since his arrival, early Saturday morning, he’d only seen them if he left his small, safe space to use the only available restroom downstairs. The trio would stop in their activities, each watching him like hawks.</p><p> </p><p>A bit of trust had been formed upon his initial arrival, that is now allowing him the small amount of freedom he’s earned so far. Aziraphale had openly submitted his cell phone to Chalky when they had opened the trunk two days prior to escort him inside.</p><p> </p><p>Upon finding Chalky’s mistake, Uriel had raged at them for not checking their captive earlier. She argued that Aziraphale could’ve use the device to tell Crowley or the authorities his location.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale countered that he wouldn’t dare risk doing such a thing. He informed her that she was welcome to look through his device to verify he was telling the truth.</p><p> </p><p>“But be warned.” He had cautioned. “The moment the device comes to life, Crowley will be able to see my location through a shared app.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got something for that.” She retrieved the large bag from the corner of the living room, and removed from it a rectangular gadget. The small machine was a dark gray, and only about the size of Uriel‘s hand. It had no dials or screen, just smooth plastic except for what appeared to be a USB port on one end and a smaller hole on the opposite end. This was most likely for charging.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have your charger with you?” Uriel had asked stone-faced. Aziraphale fought the urge to laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m very sorry.” He had responded, pursing his lips to keep from smiling. “I hadn’t even meant to bring the phone, and didn’t take time to pack properly for this trip.”</p><p> </p><p>“No matter.” Her face had twitched due to his obvious amusement at her expense. “I have several cords that will match up. Give me the phone.”</p><p> </p><p>It seems the box worked as a location blocker, until Uriel was able to go into the phone’s settings and shut off all location services. She then had all the time in the world to inspect the device, without fear of her captive being located.</p><p> </p><p>Even with Aziraphale’s sarcastic attitude, Uriel seems to have been put at bit ease with his willingness to turn over his phone. So much so, none of his captors felt the need to shake him down further, and Aziraphale thanked God silently for Her hand in that.</p><p> </p><p>If any of them had inspected him more closely, Aziraphale’s burgeoning plan would have been ruined entirely.</p><p> </p><p>Soon afterwards he confined himself to the upper floor. He needed time to think of how to handle his next steps, while allowing those downstairs to believe he was coming to terms with his circumstances.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale looks about the familiar room and lets his memories bring him comfort. This isn’t just any cabin in the hills of Empyrean, Tennessee. It’s the one in which Crowley had brought him on their last anniversary alone. It looks so much the same but there are moments when Aziraphale expects the last four years to have been a dream. That Crowley will, at any moment, step through the bedroom door to say it’s time to go dancing at a country club. And this time it won’t be owned by a murderous, spoiled brat with daddy issues.</p><p> </p><p>The blond lay face down across the bed. His mind constantly drifting to Crowley, to the family, of all the happy years that had been spent between these moments of chaos and fear.</p><p> </p><p>He knows that he’s had a great life, one he can’t believe he’d ever deserved. He’s been abundantly blessed by God to have been loved by such a wonderful man. He’s had the privilege of raising two wonderful children to adulthood and enjoy the warmth and acceptance from an extraordinary extended family.</p><p> </p><p>Deciding he’s dwelt on his past and contemplated long enough, Aziraphale rolls over, sets up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He rubs his hands over his face, then pushes himself to his feet and exits the bedroom. <em>Time to get focused on the here and now</em></p><p> </p><p>All six eyes watch closely as he descends the stairs. Chalky and Sandalphon are on opposite ends of the old floral sofa, and Uriel is standing guard beside the ancient television set.</p><p> </p><p>“To more comfortably consign myself to this new fate, would you all be amenable to answering a few of my questions?” Aziraphale ask sweetly, while clasping his hands behind him. He allows his thumb to caress the metaphorical security blanket tucked into the inside waist of his jeans.</p><p> </p><p>Chalky’s eyebrows lift upward, they tilt their head inquisitively and wave their hand in circular gesture for him to continue. “By all means, question away.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, good. I won’t keep you long as I only have three.” Aziraphale find he’s having a bit of difficulty swallowing. “Yes. Well. First question, so that I have a vague idea of who to expect.” He clears his throat. “And as Chalky stands before me, even though my children reported them dead, am I to assume the other names that were listed to me as deceased, are also involved?”</p><p> </p><p>“The way you talk gives me a headache.” Chalky blinks, placing their index fingers to their temples. “One of the people they mentioned won’t be here. Raven Sable’s not involved at all, but Mr. Hilderbert wanted a scapegoat, and I hate Sable’s fucking guts. He’s dead by now anyway along with Weston and Keeler.”</p><p> </p><p>“You actually did murder Amy Weston?” Aziraphale can’t help but grieve little. He’s known the girl since she was a teen.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, not me personally.” Chalky shakes their head, looking him up and down as if he’s a child asking silly questions. “Ray did it.” They wave their hand dismissively. “Or Travis as you know him. Anyway, yeah the rest are involved.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t tell him all that!” Uriel gives Chalky the same exasperated look they had been giving Aziraphale.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Chalky shakes their head, elbows kept at their sides and palms turning upward. “It’s not like he can do anything with it. We’ve got his only form of communication.”</p><p> </p><p>“And.” Aziraphale rushes. “It will help me be more comfortable when your employer arrives. Now that I know who my captor is, I know what’s expected of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, no more questions? That was only two.” Uriel watches him warily, her hand resting on the handle of her weapon</p><p> </p><p>“No, I received everything I needed to know with the two.” Aziraphale pretends at cheer. “I know exactly what young Mr. Hilderbert expects of me. Not only from my previous interactions with him, but also from the fact he wishes to be like the father he never met.” He holds up a hand and index finger. “In fact, I’ll be so bold as to assume, Fenrir is aware of mine and Gabriel’s previous relationship.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, his mom told him.” Sandalphon finally speaks. “She was trying to teach him a lesson in what not to be like. It, instead, started him on a path of an obsession for you. That’s why he tracked Uriel and me down, to find you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, my fucking God!” Uriel throws her arms out. “You both need to shut up!”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, Ms. Blaze.” Aziraphale smiles nervously and holds up both hands in surrender. “You have no need to worry. Over these past two days, I’ve remained in deep thought, resigning myself to the idea of this new life.” He breathes in and out deeply, clasping his hands over his stomach. “I’m certain it won’t be much different than the one I shared with Gabriel.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why aren’t you more frightened?” Uriel shakes her head, obviously tired of the lot of them. “Why aren’t you crying like you used to? If you aren’t up to something, why the brave face?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because this time, I have been given the blessing of 20 years of happiness to look back on. I’m extremely willing to let that all go in order to allow those who gave me such joy the ability to live in safety and peace.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>12:45PM, EST</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry stares into his mom’s open casket, his stepfather, daughter, brother, sister-in-law and nephew are gathered by his side.</p><p> </p><p>His mom looks like they’re sleeping, and Harry half expects that at any moment they’ll open their eyes. He envisions the gentle expression he’s seen thousands of times settle over their face as they sit up and reach to him asking. “Why are you crying, baby boy? Is it something I’ve done?”</p><p> </p><p>Who else’s mother would ask something like that? Harry’s fairly sure the answer is, not many.</p><p> </p><p>Sal had spent the entirety of Harry and Greg’s lives racked with guilt over Marcus’ cruelty. So that anytime he or his brother would become upset, they would always first assume it was somehow their fault.</p><p> </p><p>It never was.</p><p> </p><p>But people like Marcus could do that to another person. During the span of their relationship, the bastard had constantly blamed Sal for his own shortcomings, forcing them to pay for his unhappiness. No matter how strong Harry’s mom had become, they could never escape the guilt Marcus implanted in their mind for daring to exist, and worse, for having loved him.</p><p> </p><p>Harry moves his tear blurred vision from the casket to the back of the church, where Crowley, Adam, Warlock and Brian now stand. Harry wonders if Aziraphale ever dealt with the same thoughts and guilt as his mom.</p><p> </p><p>This answer too is obvious. Of course, he has, or else he wouldn’t be gone right now.</p><p> </p><p>The family knows about the note, and the suspicious occurrences surrounding it. They are all convinced the words written were dictated to Aziraphale and not his own.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, law-enforcement, besides Andrew of course, claims there is nothing they can legally do. They insist Aziraphale has left of his own volition and has every right to do so.</p><p> </p><p>Harry squeezes Jake’s arm, as a way of thanks for everything and whispers. “Watch Mabel for a moment. I’m going to speak to Crowley.”</p><p> </p><p>His stepdad nods, and pats the hand on his arm, before Harry steps away, crossing between the church pews and embracing the four broken men standing awkwardly in the sanctuary’s entrance.</p><p> </p><p>“Anything?” Harry Looks to his older cousin as they break their embrace.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing. I check the phone tracker app multiple times a day. No update.” Crowley uncovers his eyes, sliding his shades on top of his head and Harry has never seen him look so desperately tortured as he begins to cry. “I’m beginning to think it’s really over. That I’ve lost him for good this time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t give up.” Harry sobs with him, his hands on Crowley shoulders. “I’m so sorry for Amy’s involvement.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Crowley shakes his head. “I’m sorry for making this about me, when you’ve lost so much too.” Crowley lifts his eyes to the little brown haired girl standing next to Greg. “How’s Mabel handling the news about her mother?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mom and Aziraphale mean as much to all of us in equal parts. The loss of both affects us all.” Harry follows Crowley’s gaze. “As for Mabel, she’s handling her mother’s death much better than she is the death of her gram. I don’t know what Amy did to her when I wasn’t around, but it’s almost scary how relieved she is at her mother’s passing.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s obvious Amy wasn’t the person we thought she was.” Crowley steps away, moving to follow his children and future son-in-law to their seats. He’s situated himself by the aisle to continue to chat with a still standing Harry. “This may make me sound evil, but maybe Amy deserved her fate and Mabel knew her better than we did.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re evil, then so am I.” He shoves his hands into his trousers pockets. “Keep checking that app. I have faith you’ll find him.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry had meant to comfort. Instead his words seem to break Crowley all the more. The slender redhead sags forward, thick tears dripping onto the phone he has resting in his lap. “Keep that faith for both of us, because I’m losing what little I have left.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Pepper enters the church, Wensleydale by her side. She scans the crowd until she spies dark, blond curls.</p><p> </p><p>“This way.” She beckons her companion to follow, as she rounds to the far left side of the pews. From this angle she can slide into the empty seat beside Adam without disturbing Crowley, Warlock or Brian.</p><p> </p><p>“Pep?” Adam’s voice cracks as she settles next to him. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot and his left-hand twitches towards hers. He catches himself and wraps it instead, lightly around his right knee. “Hi.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” She whispers, reaching to take the hand he nearly offered, the two of them weaving their fingers together. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be.” Adam stares hard into Pepper’s eyes, obviously searching for answers. “And don’t do this out of pity.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you still want me?” She pleads, her brow draws down as she searches his face for answers of her own.</p><p> </p><p>“Always.” Adam looks as though he’s in absolute agony, and Pepper’s heart shatters at the realization that she is the cause. “But not if you’re offering out of some self-sacrificing guilt. I only want you if you truly want me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve always wanted you, Adam. I never stopped.” Pepper raises her freehand to run her fingers through his hair. “I was scared that distance would make you stop wanting me. That you would hurt me.”</p><p> </p><p>“And now?” The hope mixed with fear on Adam’s sweet face is almost more heart wrenching than the pain Pepper had seen earlier.</p><p> </p><p>“I trust you not to give up on me now.” She rests her forehead against his. “I’m sorry it took me hurting us both before I figured that out.”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, Pep.” Adam squeezes her hand. “Don’t be sorry anymore. All is forgiven.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>4:00PM, CST</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The cabin is far enough from the civilization below and Aziraphale’s speech earlier seems to have put his captors even more at ease. They now appear to feel somewhat safe and are allowing him more freedom of movement. No longer solely confined to the room, he is permitted to socialize with his captors in the living room.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, they don’t completely trust him. No, that would take a lot longer than he plans to stay. One of them is always with him, most often Uriel, since she is armed.</p><p> </p><p>She and Sandalphon had discarded their police attire before arriving at the cabin. Aziraphale wonders out loud if Sandalphon had also put away his side arm at that time.</p><p> </p><p>“No, they wouldn’t allow me one.” The shorter man pouts as he picks through a bowl of fruit on the kitchen bar.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s too aggressive, we were worried he’d shoot too high up the food chain too quickly.” Chalky relaxes to the far right of Aziraphale on the sofa, their left ankle propped on their right knee. “The plan was to start low in importance, then make our way through more progressively important people in your life if you kept refusing to listen.”</p><p> </p><p>“But Sal is important.” Aziraphale pics the fabric on the arm of the sofa.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” They look at Uriel, who stares out the front window refusing to acknowledge them. “But I’m sure not as important as your husband or your two brats.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale grits his teeth. “I have willingly given myself over. I’m ensuring your payday and will submit fully to Fenrir upon his arrival.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale rises from his seat and moves to stand next to Uriel. He gazes out the window at the covered hot tub and the opening to the forest trail, allowing memories of Crowley to wash over him and give him strength. “I will keep to myself the continued love of the family I’ve left behind myself.” He lifts his chin defiantly. “But I must ask, that you not insult them in my presence.”</p><p> </p><p>“You think Fenrir won’t?” Uriel keeps her face to the window, but tilts her head, looking to him from the corner of her eye. “Are you going to tell him to have some respect for the family from which he’s absconded you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I would assume, if he’s anything like his father, he will never mention them.” Aziraphale takes deep breaths, trying to calm the heart attempting to beat out of his chest. “It would break the illusion that I am his and his alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re probably right.” Uriel frowns, scratching her head. “But if you’re wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m his property once he pays you.” Aziraphale swallows and closes his eyes. “I will behave in a manner expected of me and will agree with any and all things he says. But you lot are merely the mail service, delivering the package. I owe you nothing but to submit to my possessor so that you may obtain payment.”</p><p> </p><p>The sound of a car outside draws their attention. Sandalphon jumps up and hurries to the door. “Sounds like Stout and Ray are here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which means in another hour or two, your new handler will be here to pay us and then.......” Uriel gives Aziraphale a smile that can only be described as wicked. “Well, we’ll get out of the way, so he can make any use of you he wishes.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale clasps and unclasps his hands at his sides. “I see. Then what are the chances I could be escorted on a walk to clear my head?”</p><p> </p><p>Uriel‘s face softens into a smirk. Yeah, I don’t see why not. You’re too fat to outrun me or a bullet.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. This is War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley receives unwanted news. Hilderbert’s crew can’t keep it together, and Aziraphale acts.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is a Thirty Seconds to Mars song. Love you all so much, hope you enjoy ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>9:00PM EST</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley moves about the kitchen on autopilot. It’s been a long, exhausting day and he knows the boys must be starving. He just hates he’s let his depressive state force his children to wait so long to eat.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley has always been a caretaker. By watching over and tending to the needs of those he loves, he finds his purpose. It’s his way of showing others how much they mean to him.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ready.” Crowley calls, switching the burner beneath the pot of chili to low. He grabs four bowls from the cupboard, and places them on the table beside a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches.</p><p> </p><p>“Looks good, Dad.” Adam throws one arm around his father, giving him a sideways hug.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks buddy.” Crowley’s voice is husky and barely audible, as he musses Adam’s hair. “Glad to see you and Pepper made up.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s trying. By God, he’s trying to be strong. He’s the adult, well they’re all adults, but he’s the parent. Adam and Warlock don’t need him breaking down right now.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re gonna get him back Dad.” Adam says, obviously unconvinced by Crowley’s show of strength, and reading between the lines of what he’s said. He steps away to ladle a bit of chili into his bowl.</p><p> </p><p>“Mhmmmm.” Crowley sprawls across his usual seat at the table, gaze trained on his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“We will. Andrew hasn’t given up, and neither should we.” As if summoned by Adam speaking his name, there is a strong, steady rap on the front door. Crowley, who doesn’t feel much like eating anyway, stands and wanders through the house to answer the summons.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew waits on the other side, in his civilian clothes. He had taken the day off, just as they all had for the funeral. He’s no longer wearing the nice slacks and button up dress shirt Crowley had seen him in at the funeral and wake. He’s now in blue skinny jeans, and a T-shirt with the logo of an alternative band that had parted ways decades before.</p><p> </p><p>“You still own all that My Beloved Tragedy stuff, do ya?” Crowley moves aside allowing his cousin to enter, a sad smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Still fits, so why not?” Andrew shrugs, moving past Crowley and into the foyer. “I need to talk with you all about something important.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley hopes that whatever Andrew is about to tell him is good news, but he can tell by the expression on his younger cousin’s face that it’s most likely not. To give himself a few more moments of respite from the heartache he knows is coming, Crowley defaults to his deeply ingrained hospitality. “I just finished cooking. Ya want some chili?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew presses his lips together, tears beginning to well in his kind brown eyes as he realizes Crowley’s intent. Shaking his head, he answers. “No. No, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley leads him into the kitchen, and the two older men take their seats among the younger. The redhead props his elbows on the edge of the table and rest his forehead in his hands. Closing his eyes, he inhales deeply and waits for the news he doesn’t want to hear.</p><p> </p><p>“Travis Grant’s cruiser has been located.” Andrew begins quietly. “Travis is gone, but two bodies were left behind. One in the passenger seat, one in the back.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley grimaces, his eyes irritated from having cried too much already. <em>Please, no.</em></p><p> </p><p>“They were burnt beyond recognition.” Andrew continues, the sounds of silverware have stopped and Crowley feels Adam’s slender hand on his right shoulder. “It appears Travis shot both men point-blank in the head, before setting the car on fire.”</p><p> </p><p>“If they’re unrecognizable they could be anyone.” Brian pipes in, strained hope in his words.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s why we had forensics run dental records.” Andrew shifts, he seems to be uncertain as to what to do with his hands. He finally settles on pressing them hard to his thighs. “The database confirmed, the man in the backseat was Raven Sable.”</p><p> </p><p>“And the man in the passenger seat?” Crowley sniffs, turning his head to the left his eyes falling on the refrigerator and a photo held up by a magnet. It’s of Aziraphale, from a little over 13 years ago. He’s on one knee fussing over Warlock and Adam as he prepares them for their first day of kindergarten. It has always been one of Crowley‘s favorites, his Angel’s smile bright, proud and stunningly beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes, heavy tears cascade from the corners as he whispers. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Adam, unmoving, stares at their visitor in stunned silence. Warlock wraps his arms around his middle and folds in on himself audibly sobbing. Brian falls to his knees beside Warlock’s chair, waiting for whatever might be needed of him. Crowley forces himself to his feet and stalks out the back door before anyone can even think to follow.</p><p> </p><p>He makes it down the concrete steps, miraculously without falling, and draws a pack of cigarettes and lighter from the pocket of his loose black joggers. Flame searing from the end of the paper stick held between his fingers, much like his life going up in flames, Crowley falls to his knees beneath the tall old pines and allows himself to weep.</p><p> </p><p>It’s raining, pouring to be exact. Crowley is soaked through already, his joggers clinging to his legs and covered in mud. He watches as the water of the pond ripples, each drop causing chaos on the glassy surface. He’s entranced by it all, so mentally numb he doesn’t fully register how long he remains in this position, until the ember on his cigarette burns down to heat his fingers. Flicking the butt carelessly towards the water, he comes back to reality just enough to finally notice Andrew is seated beside him on the cool damp ground. He doesn’t even know when the younger man got there.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s gone.” Crowley croaks, red hair falling in his face and sticking to his forehead. “I couldn’t find him and he’s gone.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not your fault.” Andrew’s only trying to help, but Crowley doesn’t want help right now, he wants to grovel, beg God to reveal that all this is mistake. He doesn’t need Andrew confirming it’s true.</p><p> </p><p>“I need to be left completely alone right now, man.” Crowley knows he must look wild, almost feral with his shades gone and his eyes darting everywhere.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew watches him with a mix of sympathy and fear. “And I need to know, you’re not going to take all the guilt of this on yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wha?” Crowley snaps his head to look directly at Andrew, slitted eyes are burning as achingly hot as his soul. “You saying I deserve to take some of the guilt?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Andrew holds up his hand, palm out. “That’s not at all what I meant.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, right.” Crowley snarls. He knows Andrew doesn’t deserve this, but he’s angry and lost. He needs someone to feel as miserable as he does and he just wants to be left alone. Two birds, one stone and all that. “Because maybe I am a little to blame, but so are you, and that department of homophobic assholes you work for.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now, I know you’re upset.” Andrew stands, his features contorted in grief.</p><p> </p><p>“DON’T ARGUE WITH ME ON THIS! YOU KNOW I’M RIGHT!” Crowley glares up at him from his kneeling position. “THEY REFUSED TO LOOK! TO HELP! AND NOW SOMEBODY’S KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!” He breathes in deeply, preparing his next barb as the tears roll unheeded down his face. “BASTARDS! ALL OF YOU!!”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley’s chest heaves, he turns his head to face the pond, eyes wide and blazing. His lips are curled above and below white teeth in a rage filled sneer.</p><p> </p><p>He’ll regret his words later. Well, not all of them, most of Andrew’s coworkers are bastards. But he’ll regret hurting his cousin. But, in this moment, with that last ember of hope snuffed out, Crowley doesn’t feel anything but blinding anger and pain. After all, his world has just come crashing to an end.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>4:15P, CST, 3 hours and 45 minutes earlier</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Uriel can’t help but enjoy the fear and anxiety radiating from the mouthy asshole. His face twitched and his eyes flashed with terror as she made the threat about him not being able to outrun herself or a bullet.</p><p> </p><p>She’d been Michael’s CI. Michael who had saved her from a life of prison and had helped Uriel focus her abilities on jobs that had given her the advantages of comfort and wealth. Aziraphale had taken her friend from her and nearly ruined the life Michael had helped Uriel build. It had been a double blessing when Fenrir gave her those old advantages back and an outlet for her revenge.</p><p> </p><p>“After you.” Uriel rests her right hand on the grip of her side arm, gesturing with her left hand to the cabin door.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes dip skittishly to the hand resting on the gun. Swallowing with obvious difficulty, he nods. The soft, blond man steps through the entryway Sandalphon had left open, before clasping his hands gently behind his back and stepping onto the front porch.</p><p> </p><p>The first thing Uriel notices upon exiting the cabin is Ray stepping, alone onto the long wooden porch. “Where’s Stout?”</p><p> </p><p>“About that.” Ray gives a sheepish grin. “Seems good ol’ Fenrir decided we needed to fake Aziraphale’s death, ya know, to get his former husband’s family off our backs. And well, Stout had relatively the same build.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck.” Uriel notices Aziraphale tense at the phrase ‘former husband’. “What do I need to do, and how much time do I have?”</p><p> </p><p>“Switch Stout and Aziraphale’s dental records in the system. And ASAP, they’ll be running it through the system soon.” Ray rests his hand on his right hip, and his own Sig Sauer. He’d obviously changed clothes while changing cars, but opted, as she had, to keep his weapon.</p><p> </p><p>“Watch him.” Uriel shoves Aziraphale towards Ray.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be so pissy.” Ray takes hold of their captive’s arm and curls his nose at Uriel. “I would’ve called, but my phone died mid convo with Hilderbert.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you didn’t charge it?” Uriel calls over her shoulder, speedily making her way to the cabin‘s door.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t want to tip off Stout, he was upfront in the passenger seat, not caged in the back. I didn’t want to clue him in, so I did it quick.” Ray shrugs. “Car was in flames, when I remembered I left my charger inside.”</p><p> </p><p>Uriel doesn’t respond, instead marching inside and signaling Chalky to follow.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>4:30PM, CST</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale, hands bracing him against the wooden porch railing, peers out over the mountains and the city below. His thoughts filled with Crowley and to the first time the two of them had taken in this scene. It had been autumn, the forest a bright display of Her artistry. He recalls Crowley, sitting behind him on one of the rocking chairs and Aziraphale settling into his lap. Crowley had carried him inside and made love to him. Aziraphale closes his eyes, recalling how his husband’s hands had felt on his body.</p><p> </p><p><em>I love you, my darling. I always will.</em> He sends the thoughts out into the world. They’re a prayer to the soulmate he’s been forced to leave behind. <em>If I never see you again, please know I love you.</em></p><p> </p><p>“It’s finished.” Uriel’s voice causing Aziraphale to turn around. “From what I gather, we got it done just in time. I also called the boss.”</p><p> </p><p>“Was he pleased with my quick thinking?” Travis, who is really Ray as Aziraphale just learned today, leans against the railing to Aziraphale’s right. Ray waggles his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest, looking very pleased with himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we had a discussion about that, he, I and Chalky. If you recall, he placed Chalky and myself in charge when he’s not present.” Uriel’s tone reminds Aziraphale of a parent or teacher, reminding a naughty child of a rule they should’ve known not to break.</p><p> </p><p>“I do.” Ray’s face morphs from overly confident to nervously defensive.</p><p> </p><p>“So you know what you’ve done wrong?” She tilts her head, her voice a mockery of gentle kindness.</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t kill one of our own, not without the order from Hilderbert himself.” Ray once again places his hand beside his gun. “But what other option did I have?”</p><p> </p><p>“You were in Adena, Ohio!” Uriel snaps. “There are drugged out homeless people everywhere. Go up to one, playing cop. First one with an ID and a similar build, that’s the one you burn. And then charge your phone so we aren’t cutting shit so close!”</p><p> </p><p>Why an ID?” Aziraphale regrets the question as soon as he asks.</p><p> </p><p>Uriel’s angry glare snaps from Ray to the blond and Aziraphale fights the urge to fold in on himself. “Because I would need to know who to switch your dental records with.”</p><p> </p><p>Uriel turns again to Ray, closes her eyes, and takes several deep breaths. After a minute, she’s collected herself and opens them again. “Hilderbert told me to you handle you how I see fit.”</p><p> </p><p>“And how do you see fit?” Ray hovers his hand over his holster, and pushes down the SLS.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t start with that.’ Uriel shakes her head and gestures to Aziraphale. “His majesty would like to take a walk and clear his head. You’re going to walk with us, so that I don’t have to babysit alone.”</p><p> </p><p>This is the point where Aziraphale panics and briefly zones out of the conversation, his heart dropping like lead into his stomach. He’s known from the get-go, that this plan was not going to be easy. He has been relieved to find only Uriel armed on his arrival, but then Ray had shown. The second weapon causing Aziraphale’s worry to spike once more, before deciding it was no major issue as long as he could deal with Ray and Uriel separately. Of course, that’s now thrown out the window as well.</p><p> </p><p><em>It’s okay, ol’ boy.</em> Aziraphale cheers himself on. Just wait for an opening, you’ll be given one. <em>You can do this.</em></p><p> </p><p>He has to do this. If he fails, Heaven knows what will become of himself or everyone he loves.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale returns to reality as he and his armed escorts enter the woodland path. He hears Ray ask. “The others didn’t want to come with us?”</p><p> </p><p>“They want to listen to the live audio that being recorded in his majesty’s house.” Uriel chuckles, poking Aziraphale in the back with a a tree limb she’s using as a walking-stick. “Your children and the one’s little boyfriend seem to have hope you‘ll come back. Your husband, however, doesn’t say much until he’s in the bedroom alone. Each night he sobs like a little bitch and practically prays to you. It’s pathetic really.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale squeeze this is eyes closed, trying his damnedest to not let Uriel know how deeply her words cut.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You left me, you swore you never leave me</em>.” She mocks in a fake nasally cry, turning her fisted hand in semicircles over her cheek. <em>“Please come back, I can’t do this without you.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“Four years ago, Anthony and I spent a weekend in this cabin for anniversary.” Aziraphale speaks as if he doesn’t hear her. “We took a stroll down the same path the three of us now walk.” Uriel to his right, turns to look at him and rolls her eyes. Ray, to his opposite side stares off to his own left and into the forest. “We came upon some sort of viper known to this area, so I’m glad you brought that stick Ms. Blaze. It was with one similar my hus....” Aziraphale catches himself. “My soon to be ex-husband fought off the beast.”</p><p> </p><p>Uriel stops walking and grabs Aziraphale’s wrist, causing him to halt as well. Dropping her walking stick to the ground she unholsters her weapon and presses the muzzle to the center of the blond’s forehead.</p><p> </p><p>Ray continues to walk ahead a foot or two before stopping and looking back to her. He raises his left eyebrow and asks. “What are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“I get the feeling he’s trying to butter us up for something.” Uriel snarls, the cold metal biting into Aziraphale’s skin. “You had better not be trying to fuck with Hilderbert and his loyal employees.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale distances himself from the horror of now and throws his mind back to 4 years ago.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I killed it, Aziraphale.” Tears had flooded from under Crowley’s shades.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You’re one of his now too.” Uriel moves the gun to the right, now pointing it near his temple and permitting a modicum of relief. “Do you know what happens when one of his falls out of line?”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale breaths in deeply through his nose, releasing it slowly. He holds Uriel’s gaze with a steady determination.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“It tried to kill you Anthony.” Aziraphale recalls wiping tears from sharp cheekbones.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Daniel fell out of line, letting his whore in our circle without asking. You heard how that ended.” As Uriel finishes the sentence, Ray laughs. Before either man can register the movement, Uriel’s gun snaps from Aziraphale to Ray. Aziraphale’s left ear rings with the sound of weapon’s blast. “Ray fucked up too and now you see what fucking up will get you.”</p><p> </p><p>Ray’s body had fallen to the ground, limp and lifeless, before Uriel finished speaking. Aziraphale is shaken. He stares, wide-eyed at his living captor, filled with a mixture of horror and relief.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“But it didn’t know any better.” Crowley had cried, looking at Aziraphale full of grief and guilt.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale knows how Uriel’s gun feels in his hand. How it feels to hold the grip and pull the trigger. How the Sig Sauer P320 kicks. Andrew had gifted one to Crowley two Christmases past. It’s the same weapon issued to all officers of the OSP, and Crowley had taught Aziraphale how to properly handle all his firearms.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not going to make me shoot you too. Right?” Uriel brings the weapon back level to his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Right.” Aziraphale’s words come out hoarse, tears have begun to leak from his eyes. Uriel smiles, mistaking his reaction for fear.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“It tried to kill <strong>me</strong>, darling.” And that had done it.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” Uriel steps away, holstering her weapon and stepping to Ray’s body. She bends to secure his firearm on her person as well.</p><p> </p><p>She isn’t looking when Aziraphale picks up the large stick she’d dropped to the ground. Doesn’t hear as he steps up behind her crouched form. The last thing Uriel ever feels is the wood crashing down onto her skull.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Crowley had chuckled through his tears. “Well then, it should’ve known better.”</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Heaven Knows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale ends their troubles and makes it home. We get a quick summary of the forty-two years to follow these events from God Herself. Aziraphale and Crowley get their happily ever after.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, the Major Character Deaths are not in the action part of this. They are in the epilogue from God at the end. And even then Aziraphale and Crowley get to be happy for eternity. No sad endings here.</p><p>For those that don’t live in the States, CST is one hour behind EST. I thought I should explain in case my timelines get confusing.</p><p>The title of this chapter is a Five for Fighting song. Thank you all for sticking with me through this adventure. I love you and I hope you all will join me on my other adventures in writing. Take care loves ❤️💚</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>5:15Pm CST</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale takes the sandwich bag of latex gloves from the weaponless gun holster inside the waistband of his jeans. Slipping a pair on and returning the baggy to his back pocket, Aziraphale removes Ray’s gun from its holster and places it in his own.</p><p> </p><p>Moving next to Uriel’s body, he checks her for a pulse, that is no longer there. Pushing away the thought of what he’s done, he forces himself to take her weapon as well into his gloved hands.</p><p> </p><p>Dropping the magazine, Aziraphale puts it his hoodie pouch, then pulls back the slide on the 9mm and removes the chambered round. He slides it into his backup mag before returning Uriel’s weapon onto her person.</p><p> </p><p>He then hurries along the dirt path to the cabin. Having no clue as to how soon exactly he is to expect Hilderbert, Aziraphale rushes in order to have everything ready for when the younger man arrives.</p><p> </p><p><em>You can do this.</em> The blond repeats to himself, terrified of what he plans. What he’s done to Uriel is enough to cause the guilt to already begin clawing its way into his soul. It spreads like spilled paint over canvas, dark and blotchy, and very likely to change him to the core.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s for Anthony, Adam and Warlock.” He tells himself aloud. The audible confirmation doing much more to settle him then the internal<em>. God forgive me.</em> “This isn’t in cold-blood, this is self-defense. I’m protecting my family.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale continually reminds himself of these things, resulting in a decent job of steadying his nerves by the time he re-enters the cabin’s door.</p><p> </p><p>Chalky and Sandalphon lounge on separate ends of the sofa, an electronic tablet open on the coffee table before them. The duo cackle as voices emit from the rectangular device.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay sweetheart?” Brian’s voice drifts about the room. “Should I call the new job and tell them I won’t be able to start on Friday?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Responds Warlock’s soft voice. “We need the money. Otherwise we won’t be able to keep the apartment or pay our tuition.”</p><p> </p><p>“You should stay here.” Brian’s tone is ever so gentle. Aziraphale has always known the boy is a good fit for Warlock, but oh how his heart warms at witnessing just how good his future son-in-law truly is. “You don’t need to start work on Wednesday at all. I can support the both of us.”</p><p> </p><p>“That wouldn’t be fair to you.” Warlock protests. “It’s not like there’s anything else we can do to help right now. Andrew is still looking, he’ll find Pops.” A pause, followed by a timid and quiet. “I hope.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Uriel?” Chalky squints their eyes, finally noticing Aziraphale in the entryway.</p><p> </p><p>“She sent me back, says she needs to handle Travis.” Aziraphale waves his hand dismissively. “I mean Ray.”</p><p> </p><p>“That she does.” Sandalphon quips, he and Chalky sharing another chuckle. Sandalphon points to the tablet. “You hearing this? It’s some funny shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Chalky nods excitedly. “My God the bunch of you have to be the weakest, most worthless bunch of pussies I’ve ever known.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale presses his lips together in a tight line. <em>This isn’t going to be as difficult as I feared.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>8:30PM, CST</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale checks the hot tub’s temperature before easing himself, naked and tense, into the warm water. A bottle of wine, and two glasses already filled, sit on the wooden ledge. Now he only needs to wait.</p><p> </p><p>Over the course of three hours, he has finished the second step of the plan. He surprisingly feels numb about it all. Part of him wonders if deep down, he too is a monster?</p><p> </p><p><em>No</em>. <em>They were the monsters</em>. Aziraphale reminds himself of the way Chalky and Sandalphon had laughed at Warlock and Brian’s worry. The names they had called his family had been atrocious. <em>Yes, they were most definitely the monsters.</em></p><p> </p><p>Not long after eliminating those particular evils, Aziraphale had located his cell phone, as well as Chalky’s, just in time to intercept a text from Hilderbert. It was to inform his lackeys that he is running behind but should arrive between 8:30-8:45PM.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale then wiped down all the door knobs and railings and continued to ruffle through everyone’s belongings until he found the one other thing he’d hoped to locate.</p><p> </p><p>The blond waited out the remainder of the night listening to the audio. There was a layout on the screen of his home and indicator showing where each conversation was occurring and giving a general idea of where the devices are located. Once he was home, Aziraphale would remove and destroy them all along with the trackers on their cars.</p><p> </p><p>He also realized at one point the feed wasn’t live. What Sandalphon and Chalky had been so distastefully mocking, had been from the evening prior. Aziraphale played around with the machine a bit until he figured out how to move it forward and back.</p><p> </p><p>He listened to the audio of Crowley crying for him, and his heart had shattered. But no matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t bring himself to not listen. It has only been three days, but he misses Crowley so badly it hurts. Hearing his husband’s voice makes Aziraphale feel as if they aren’t that far apart. It gives him something to cling too, he only wishes there were some way to bring Crowley the same comfort.</p><p> </p><p><em>Soon.</em> He’d keeps reminding himself. <em>Just one more to deal with and I’m going home</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A large portion of the audio for today had been silent. That’s when Aziraphale had noticed another small map in the bottom right corner of the screen. It was a GPS tracker, and it appeared to be tracking 2 dots. One of which was blinking in front of his home, the other in front of Sal’s.</p><p> </p><p>The full weight of what was happening hit him, these people hadn’t only been listening to his family, they had been tracking their cars as well. Had they installed all this the night of the breaking? Or had someone been in their home again after that? The more Aziraphale learned of what these people had taken and had planned to continue to take, helped ease any sort of doubt or regret he might have otherwise felt.</p><p> </p><p>He’d fast forwarded through the silent bits, and then listened live when he’d seen Crowley‘s car leave Sal’s house. Aziraphale came to the assumption that the poor person’s funeral must have been today and he had missed it. Over this, he does feel guilt.</p><p> </p><p>He hears Crowley and the boys settle in at home and longed for some way to answer Crowley as he talked to an absent Aziraphale while in their bedroom. Most likely having gone in to change his clothes.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying, angel.” Crowley’s voice sounded raspy and strained. “God knows I’m trying. I can’t give up on you. That’s the crazy part, I could never let you go. What no one else seems to realize is when I give up my hope, it won’t be my hope for you, but my hope for me.” There’s the sound of shuffling and their bed creaking. “You know people can actually die from a broken heart? It’s true.” Sniffling. “That’s how Sal’s grandma went. Not the one we shared, but the one on her dad’s side. Died of a broken heart within a year of her grandpa. Doctors confirmed it.” The soft sound of sobbing began and stretched on for a minute or more, before Crowley finally spoke again. “If it’s confirmed you’re not coming back, I won’t last a quarter of that time. You’ll be my death sentence, Aziraphale.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale placed his hands over his chest and crumpled to the floor. He heard Adam call for his father to join the rest of them. The blond set against the wall crying. Crowley clinked around in the kitchen and Warlock, Brian and Adam discussed their long day while watching television.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale overheard as they all sat down to eat, and Andrew arrive. He shut down the device not long after. He couldn’t stand the sounds of pain floating out to him from the device. Besides, he needed to get his head together, Hilderbert would be there soon.</p><p> </p><p>Which brings him to now, leaning in the hot water, preparing to put on the best damn performance of his life. He’ll hate it. Hate the way he will most likely be touched. Hate the things he’ll need to pretend to mean, the things he’ll need to do. It will be a lot like how he pretended with Gabriel, only this time Aziraphale will end it before it goes too far.</p><p> </p><p>Headlights make their way up the long, mountain drive. Aziraphale gives the glass that is not his one last look to make certain it’s contents have dissolved properly and sends up one last prayer. <em>Please let him be alone.</em></p><p> </p><p>And thank God, he is. The man hasn’t changed much at all, still tall, broad shouldered and muscular. He bears a disturbing resemblance to his father, and Aziraphale can’t believe he’d never noticed it the first time they had met.</p><p> </p><p>The blond rolls his shoulders, and turns on his biggest and, he hopes, most alluring smile as Hilderbert hits the top step of the porch. Taking a deep breath to calm his voice, Aziraphale purrs. “You’re finally here. Won’t you join me?”</p><p> </p><p>Hilderbert cocks his head to the side and squints his eyes. Hesitantly he asks. “You’re waiting for me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, my dear boy.” Aziraphale wades to the side of the hot tub, closest to where Fenrir stands. He crosses his arms onto the wooden platform and rest his chin atop. He allows the buoyancy of the water to lift the rest of his body, so that his bare ass breaks the surface, before floating back down. “Why else do you think I was so willing to come here?”</p><p> </p><p>“You weren’t this willing four years ago.” Fenrir‘s words are apprehensive, but his body language is eager. Aziraphale continues to smile and slides to his former perch beside his wine glass, watching the younger man make quick disposal of his own clothing. “Hell, it’s not been a week since you broke my terms that got that fat bitch of a CO killed.”</p><p> </p><p>“I broke nothing dearest.” Aziraphale keeps his voice light and his features pleasant. Fenrir’s words had cut him, cut him as much as his own next sentence will. “My fool of an ex-husband and his idiot cousin broke those terms.” The words felt dirty passing his lips, and he had the urge to gag. “I’ve been wanting away from that filth for years. I had hoped this summons was from you, and it appears I’ve been pleasantly rewarded.”</p><p> </p><p>I smile tugs at the corners of Hilderbert’s lips and his body language relaxes as he also eases himself into the steaming water. “I knew it. I knew you’d realize our combine wealth would be so much more beneficial.”</p><p> </p><p>“I realized it years ago.” Aziraphale siddles next to the scumbag, once he too settles onto the submerged bench. “But by that time, I had feared my opportunity had passed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good thing I popped back in when I did.” Fenrir slides a hand along a thick bare thigh, and Aziraphale fights the urge to jerk away.</p><p> </p><p>Hilderbert stops centimeters from Aziraphale’s cock and looks about. “Where are the others?” His grip tightens, dull nails digging into Aziraphale’s soft skin. “Seems odd they’d up and leave without payment.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale’s breath catches in his throat. The grip reminding him of Gabriel, as well as the deadly look in Fenrir’s violet eyes. “Please don’t be angry with me or them dearest, but I paid them myself, with my own money and sent them all the way. I so very badly wanted you to myself as quickly as possible.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like the way that sounds.” Fenrir’s voice drops deep, his hand slides around Aziraphale’s hip and down, so that the creepy bastard is cupping his ass.</p><p> </p><p>“I propose a toast before we get fully into our celebratory activities.” Aziraphale winks and gestures for Hilderbert to take the glass nearest himself as he raises his own. “To new beginnings.”</p><p> </p><p>“To new beginnings.” Hilderbert echoes, clinking their glasses. “And to the discarding of second-hand rubbish.”</p><p> </p><p>“Couldn’t have put it better myself.” Aziraphale allows his sweet demeanor to morph into something malicious. He’s experiencing something almost akin to glee as the asshole beside him downs his glass of red. A small voice tells him that his emotions are wrong, but right now Aziraphale doesn’t care. He removes himself from Hilderbert’s grasp and pulls his upper body from the water. “You know, I did some snooping about during the few hours I had been left myself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where do you think you’re going?” Hilderbert’s mood switching from smug to borderline outrage. He takes hold of Aziraphale’s ankle hard enough to bruise. “I didn’t give you permission to leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need your permission.” Aziraphale eyes Fenrir coldly from his seat on the wooden platform. He covers his more private area with a towel and waits for his captor’s grip to loosen. “Now. As I was saying. I listened to the audio from within my home and discovered you had been tracking my vehicles. Very distasteful behavior.”</p><p> </p><p>Hilderbert’s face contorts in confusion and he begins to blink erratically. “What’d you do to me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yes!” Aziraphale claps his hands. “I also found your stash of deadly substances.”</p><p> </p><p>Fenrir stops blinking, his eyes blowing wide with fear. “You. You didn’t. You old, fat, bit...”</p><p> </p><p>But that’s all he gets out before the fentanyl Aziraphale has mixed in his drink takes hold and Fenrir is floating lifelessly, face down in the water.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale stands and dries himself off. Wandering into the cabin he slips quickly into his clothes and another pair of latex gloves. He hadn’t touched Fenrir’s glass with ungloved hands so he leaves it be, but carries his own glass to the sink and cleans it thoroughly.</p><p> </p><p>Once all that is finished, Aziraphale steps back outside. He tosses his used gloves into a small waste bin he brought onto the porch. Inside is also his gloves from earlier and the towels he’d used for cleaning. He sets it on fire, using a match before tossing the entire matchbook into the flames and walking away.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale has quite a bit of traveling to do before he’ll risk turning on his phone or calling home. The last thing he needs is Crowley getting himself involved in this scenario. He’s decided to walk into town, purchase a disposable credit card in one of the little shops and use their phone to call a cab.</p><p> </p><p>Several minutes later Aziraphale casts a glance back to the cabin, and fights to push away the guilt that is again threatening to creep into his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t do that to yourself.” He whispers into the night air. “You were only discarding of second-hand rubbish.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, June 1, 8:00AM EST</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley lay burrowed within his comforter, head covered and faced buried in Aziraphale’s pillow. He knows the sun has risen beyond his thick, cloth barrier, but right now, he can’t bring himself to break the illusion. With the smell of his angel all around him in this dark cocoon, Crowley can pretend that it’s Aziraphale in his arms, and the deep throbbing ache in his chest dissipates a little.</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere beyond, he can hear his bedroom door open, followed by slow footsteps. “Dad. Warlock and Brian made breakfast, and Pepper’s here too. Wanna come eat?”</p><p> </p><p>“M’sorry Adam.” Crowley rasps. “Can’t yet.”</p><p> </p><p>The side of the bed sinks down and Crowley feels a strong hand on his shoulder. When Adam speaks again, Crowley can hear the tears in his son’s words. “Take your time. I love you, Dad.”</p><p> </p><p>“Love you too big man.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Well?" Warlock looks up at his brother. He, Brian and Pepper are already seated at the table, plates full.</p><p> </p><p>"Says he isn't ready yet." Adam pushes a hand through his hair and takes the seat beside Pepper. "I'm scared he's gonna give up."</p><p> </p><p>"He loves you both too much to just give up." Pepper admonishes.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, but Dad and Pops have a connection." Adam tries to think of the best way to put this without upsetting anyone. "It's like, loads of people fall in love. Real true love, all the time. But even that's not like them. With Dad and Pops it's like actual, honest to God soulmate stuff, like you read about in fairy tales. They're made for each other and only each other. Cut from the same life force at creation, or somethin', and they need one another to survive."</p><p> </p><p>"Grief makes you poetic." Pepper teases, but Adam can see the flash of hurt behind it.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't be like that Pep." Adam kisses her cheek. "You know I love you and was willing to wait until you came back or found someone else, but it wouldn't have killed me, just left a hole. I can't speak for Warlock and Brian, only they know how deep their connection is." He nods to his brother and long-time friend who smile back at him knowingly. "And look at Sal and Jake, they weren't like Dad and Pops either. They cared for each other, a lot, but Jake will mourn and then carry on without her. I'm not gonna go through the whole family, but it's fairly one sided that love like what my parents have is extremely rare."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't want to lose Dad too." Warlock stares at the eggs he pushes around his plate.</p><p> </p><p>"We'll love him as much as we can. That's all we can do. We lost an amazing father and role model, but Dad lost his whole purpose in life." Adam states with a determined authority.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry." They all startle and turn to face the hoarse voice. Crowley is leaning against the kitchen doorway, obviously having listened to a portion, if not all of Adam's speech. His hair is wild, eyes and face blotchy with shed and unshed tears. "I don't know how to be without him."</p><p> </p><p>"It's okay." Adam rises and moves to his father. He is quickly followed by his breakfast companions, the four of them wrapping Crowley in a group hug. "We've got you."</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>12:00PM, EST</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale holds in the button to awaken his cellphone, as the taxi pulls away. He had taken four different cabs during his trip, even intentionally detouring a few hours out of his way to be safe. He now stands in the lot of Mike's One Stop, as he makes the call he's been anticipating for days. It rings five times and goes to voicemail.</p><p> </p><p><em>How odd.</em> Aziraphale thinks, pulling the phone from his ear and glaring at it as if it has personally offended him. <em>Anthony always answers my calls, unless of course something is wrong.</em></p><p> </p><p>"He thinks I'm dead." Aziraphale murmurs aloud as the weight of what Hilderbert and crew have down comes back to him. "He thinks I'm dead, and now here's my number popping up on his phone."</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale calls again and again. By his sixth try he resolves to leave a message and try Andrew if there is no answer. To his surprise and relief he's greeted by an angry, but nonetheless welcomed voice. "What the fuck do you monsters want now? Haven't you taken enough?"</p><p> </p><p>"Anthony, darling, it's me." There's a long pause and Aziraphale fears Crowley has hung up. That is until he hears a soft sob on the other end.</p><p> </p><p>"Aziraphale?" Crowley says his name with such awe, relief and wonder</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, my love. Please, Anthony, I'm so sorry. Will you forgive me? That is, if I haven't made too much a mess of things." Aziraphales anxiety dissipates when he hears a car door slam from Crowley's end of the line.</p><p> </p><p>"Nothing to forgive. I know you have your reasons. You always have good reasons." Crowley spews the sentence in a single restless breath. "Wherever you are I'll come to you. Where are you?"</p><p> </p><p>"Where I arrived twenty years ago, in front of Mike's One Stop. I love you, Anthony, come bring me home.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>A Message From God Herself</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>If you're curious of how life went on for the rest of our players, Harry and Emma eventually married and gave Mabel two younger brothers. Brian proposed two months after the end of our tale, and of course, Warlock accepted. Adam and Pepper lived the rest of their life together, happy and committed without an official government document. Beez and Dagon, Anathema and Newt, and all the other couples we've met along the way, lived lives of normalcy and domesticity, with no greater care or worries than bills or who's turn it is to wash dishes.</p><p> </p><p>As for Aziraphale and Crowley, they were inseparable from that day forward. Not that they weren't already, but that closeness intensified all the more. They, of course, went about the grind of maintaining owned businesses, but now Aziraphale never travelled out of town without Crowley, lunches were spent together and the moment Crowley and Beez's shop closed for the evening the lanky red-head rushed home.</p><p> </p><p>I gifted them another forty-two years of peace. They watched their children thrive and become successful, witnessed the births of grandchildren and some great-grandchildren. And I gifted both men enough strength and health until the end, that they might enjoy and play with the little ones who surrounded them.</p><p> </p><p>Every night they would hold tight to one another, each calming the other's nightmares, self-loathing and fear. They would comfort with gentle touches, kisses, words and lovemaking.</p><p> </p><p>When their bodies grew too old and tired to continue nightly physical intimacy, it was no matter. Their bond was deeply spiritual, something the physical could enhance, but never dampen.</p><p> </p><p>They were one of my favorite unions, because together their souls burned bright and pure. Part of me grieved the morning I had to separate them, but they are humans and humans can't live on earth forever.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale kept the oath he never made. Crowley passed in his sleep at the age of ninety-two. He stood beside me looking as vibrant and young as he had on the day Aziraphale had met him. I held his hand in support as the both of us watched Aziraphale's eyes flutter open. With a warm smile, the lovely former blond draped his arm over the chest and kissed the thin cheekbone of what was once his husband.</p><p> </p><p>"Good morning my love." Aziraphale whispered, the picture of perfect contentment. But in the next few moments, as Crowley didn't respond, we witnessed that contentment completely dissolve.</p><p> </p><p>"Can I stay to watch over him?" Crowley turned his head to look at Me, his golden eyes pleading. "He needs me."</p><p> </p><p>"He won't be able to see you." I smiled at him approvingly and gestured to his wings. "And you'll have to wait to use those."</p><p> </p><p>"Don't even need the wings, not until he can come with me." He fluttered his feathers, stretching them out. "Will he be able to feel me?"</p><p> </p><p>"In a way, yes." I watched him, ever so proud of the pure soul he has always been. "He'll sense you, sometimes even think he can feel the brush of your fingers on his skin or hair."</p><p> </p><p>"I just don't want to leave him when he's suffering." Crowley rounded the bed unseen and held himself close to his weeping husband.</p><p> </p><p>"You may stay." I leaned across the bed and brushed a long red hair from his face. "I do want you to be the first thing he sees when he joins us in eight months."</p><p> </p><p>And I left them there together, but I never left them at all.</p><p> </p><p>The next time that Crowley and I spoke, was the day of his and Aziraphale's reunion. I touched his back and his beautiful, black wings shivered. His voice quaked much the same as his wings. "He's not been doing well."</p><p> </p><p>"He'll be fine very soon. It's time."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley and I watched as Aziraphale drifted in his recliner, alert but slowly slipping away. When his breathing grew shallow and labored, I stepped back.</p><p> </p><p>Moments later, there was Aziraphale, beautiful, brilliant and young. "Anthony?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, it's me Angel." Crowley stepped forward and cupped Aziraphale's face in his hand. He gestured to the large white wings spreading from his husband's back. "The name really fits you now."</p><p> </p><p>"Wings?" Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder in astonishment. Turning again to face Crowley his features darkened in concern. "Why are yours black?"</p><p> </p><p>"Turns out, God's pretty chill. Lot more chill than most of Her followers." Crowley stepped aside, allowing Aziraphale to see Me where I stood in the archway. "She let's us pick our aesthetic. White must be what you prefer."</p><p> </p><p>"Sal's are green." I added to reinforce his point. "Tracy's are a rainbow motif, Shadwell went with grey."</p><p> </p><p>"You're, you're God?" Aziraphale looked at me with a mixture of awe and terror.</p><p> </p><p>"Be not afraid." I said with a smirk, and Crowley threw Me one in return, before turning his full attention to his husband.</p><p> </p><p>"She is." Crowley kissed him and Aziraphale visually relaxed. When their lips finally separated, Crowley wrapped an arm around Aziraphale's waist and led him towards me. "Come on Angel. It's time to go home."</p><p> </p><p>And there you have it, after all the trials and tribulations they suffered to be together, I gave them their happily ever after. Not just for a single lifetime, but for an eternity.</p><p> </p>
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